


Axiom Tilt

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: The Least of Your Worries [6]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Damsels in Distress, Dulcinea, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Phrack, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Murder Mystery, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Stalking, decoy damsel, tilting at windmills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-20 09:30:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Phryne and Jack moved their partnership to the boudoir well over a year ago. They traveled the world together for almost a year before returning to Melbourne. Things have been... fine... really. No, they've been great. So, why is Phryne so unhappy? She meets a young nurse in Mac's hospital who desperately needs a clever savior. Things aren't as simple as they seem, though, and what was thought completely reliable is suspect.This is part of the MFMM August Trope Challenge "The Dulcinea Effect".This is also part of the MFMM September Trope Challenge "Don't Believe the Rumours" (the aspects of which were always planned, but lucky me, fit the trope!)





	1. Chapter 1

“No, it’s wonderful,” she assured her copper-maned friend over the edge of her tea cup, not quite meeting her eye, “everything is fine.”

Mac studied her oldest—or rather most enduring—friend in silence as the metronome of her bookshelf clock kept the beat. Finally, she broke the rhythm, “But?”

Phryne Fisher shook her head out of her hypnotized daze. The ticking of the clock was grating on her nerves and was lulling her into a spiral of internal conversation. “But nothing, Mac. It’s fine.”

“When did lying to each other become part of our friendship?” Mac countered, leaning forward to grab her own tea cup.  Phryne rolled her eyes at Mac, “Alright, fine… it isn’t _all_ wonderful… but it is… fine,” she said with a huff, “It’s mostly wonderful. It’s nearly perfect. It’s just…”

“Not,” Mac finished for her.

“No,” Phryne set her cup and saucer down then slumped into her chair, picking at her peacock motif scarf.

“So, what’s he done?” Mac probed. Phryne tossed the ends of her scarf down at her legs, throwing her hands up in frustration.

“That’s just it, Mac…” she sat forward in her chair, “He hasn’t done anything wrong… he hasn’t done _anything_ … He doesn’t argue with me. He doesn’t fight me on any of my ideas. He is fine with me going out for all hours. He just doesn’t—“ she tried to pick the words out of the air but couldn’t find them.

“He’s not challenging you anymore.” Phryne stared at Mac in shock. _That couldn’t be all, could it?_

There was a light knock at the door.

“Come in!” Mac offered in a loud friendly voice.

“Sorry to disturb you Dr. MacMillan,” a pretty, young nurse peeked through the now open doorway, “I thought you might like some more of this tea.”

“Yes, perfect timing Nurse Isaacs! We’ve just run out.” Mac turned back to Phryne, “Nothing against Dot’s tea… it’s wonderful. But Rebecca here makes the best damn tea I’ve ever tasted—bar none.”

Phryne snapped herself out of her relationship induced doldrums and smiled brightly at the lovely brunette, “It _is_ wonderful! Thank you so much.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble Mrs.…” Nurse Isaacs began meekly.

“Miss!” Phryne began a bit too abruptly, even for her own ears, “Miss Phryne Fisher.”

Nurse Isaacs paused, mouth slightly agape at her, for a beat, “Sorry ‘Miss’, it’s no trouble Miss Fisher,” she curtseyed slightly, “Dr. MacMillan has been so kind since I transferred here, it’s the least I can do.”

“You’ve recently transferred here?” Phryne asked to be polite. The young woman looked away embarrassed as if she were hiding something. Mac didn’t seem to clock it, but it struck Phryne as odd.

“Um, yes… From Royal Melbourne,” Nurse Isaacs absently smoothed out her apron and looked down and away quickly, “Can I get you anything else, Dr. MacMillan? I should be getting back to my patients.”

“Of course! No. Thank you, Nurse Isaacs,” Mack flashed her a genuine smile. She curtseyed again to them both and made her retreat, closing the door behind her.

“Well… that was odd,” Phryne said about a minute after the nurse left the room. They’d been sitting listening to the sound of the clock and sipping their tea.

“What?” Mac looked at her quizzically and then pointlessly toward the closed door, “Nurse Isaacs? Phryne, just because she doesn’t want to share all the sordid details of her transfer with a stranger doesn’t mean she’s hiding something. We were talking about your relationship problems with Jack Robinson.”

“I’m not having ‘relationship problems’ with Jack,” Phryne’s voice was getting higher pitched, “And I _knew_ there was something going on with her. Have you told her I can solve all manner of…”

“Phryne, it is not your job to save the world. She’s already solved her problem. She left it behind at Royal Melbourne. She’s just going to need some time to recover from it. There’s no case for you here. Drop it.”  Mac looked at her friend with love and sympathy, “And you can’t solve your problems…” she held up her hand to stop Phryne from cutting her off, “you can’t solve your _problems_ by not talking about them.”

Phryne slumped back into her chair and started picking at her scarf again. She could feel the oppressive weight of Mac’s eyes on her as she processed this new idea. She was restless. She had found herself getting increasingly peeved at Jack since they’d returned from their adventures. Noticing things that used to be endearing becoming—annoying.

It hadn’t always been easy as they started out this new phase of their partnership together, but they seemed to always get back in step very quickly—at least when they were exploring the world together.  The dance at first had been spectacular. And they had always worked things through… and then reverted to old habits… and then worked things through… and reverted. Even the ebbs and flows of their relationship issues were getting predictable.

They had been back in Melbourne for six months now and things were becoming a little rockier. He had to do some pretty fancy solo moves to get his job back, but he did it. They were still allowed to work together on occasion, but the occasions didn’t seem to be coming up as frequently as they did before she left in that tiny plane— _what was it?—_ over two years ago, now.

She loved him. She did. She loved him more than she ever imagined being able to love one man. He was her partner. He was her best friend—even more so than this wonderful woman sitting across from her. He was her lover. He _was_ wonderful. He didn’t complain at all when she went out dancing without him. He wasn’t jealous when she flirted with other men. They’d talked about it, and he said he’d still want to be central in her life if she took another man to bed—she hadn’t _yet_ felt the urge to do that _(though that urge was lately getting stronger)_ but she appreciated that she wouldn’t lose him for it if she did.

She felt her mouth go dry. She reached for her tea cup and sipped.

“What am I supposed to say to him? ‘Stop being so reasonable, Jack.’ ‘You’re being too accommodating, Jack.’ ‘Push back on something… anything…?’” she looked at Mac, “You see, it’s ridiculous. I have nothing to complain about.”

“And it’s driving you mad.” Phryne nodded and looked at the bottom of her cup.

 

Mac had to get to her rounds. She had recently returned to splitting her time between the Women’s Hospital and the morgue. They said their farewells outside Mac’s office and headed off in different directions.

As she walked toward the exit, past the stairwell to her left she heard what sounded like a woman weeping. Ever one to lend a helping hand, she followed the sound down the stairs towards the bottom of the stairwell, “Hello?” she called out tentatively, not wanting to spook whomever was already upset. She heard a sharp intake of breath and a sniffling she recognized as the sound of someone pulling themselves together. She’d done it herself more than once. “It’s alright,” she called softly, “I’d like to help you if I can. Or if you need a doctor or a nurse...”

“Miss Fisher?” a small voice called from just out of sight at the bottom of the stairs.

“Nurse Isaacs? Is that you?” Phryne thought she recognized the ragged voice of the young woman who had served her tea earlier. She kept descending the stairs, but heard footsteps coming up now. The tear-streaked face of Rebecca Isaacs was looking up at her with red-rimmed, soulful brown eyes. “Whatever is the matter?”

Nurse Isaacs looked at her as if she were about to tell her, her mouth poised open… and then shook her head, “Ghosts, Miss Fisher,” she said sadly, “It’s nothing. I need to get back to work.” She jogged up the stairs past Phryne.

Just as she passed, Phryne lightly grabbed her arm causing her to stop abruptly with a recoiling gasp.

“I’m sorry…” Phryne said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She took out one of her business cards and held it out to the young nurse. “If the ‘ghosts’ get to be too much, or you need help in some other way, I may be able to help.”

Nurse Isaacs stared at the card for a long moment as if struggling to make a momentous decision. Finally, she tentatively reached out her shaking fingers and took the card. “Tha…thank you. Thank you, Miss Fisher,” and without looking at the Lady Detective she continued running up the stairs, disappearing around the corner before Phryne could even start her ascent.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She intended to go to City South after seeing Mac, but felt drained after her conversation, so she headed back to Wardlow. A stiff drink, a short nap, and a good dinner were what she needed. She would need some time to think about what Mac said. She knew she should discuss it with Jack. Open and honest had been the agreement. She just didn’t know how to start. _“You’re smothering me with agreeableness, Darling,”_ seemed like a good way to start and lose an argument.

After a game of musical houses, Jack lived here at Wardlow and the ever-expanding Collins family had taken up residence in Jack’s small bungalow just north of the Yarra. The house currently worked well for the Collins (soon-to-be) four. It was not far from either Wardlow or City South. It was a solidly built yellow and red brick house with gingerbread trim and a brick-red wrought-iron fence. It never completely suited Jack, but he was just looking for a place that wasn’t full of Rosie at the time.

They had discussed whether it was a good idea to live together or not, including variations on the “marriage” question— at length— during their travels. Weighing all the pros and cons along the way, but not really coming to a solid resolution. Where they currently stood was that while neither of them were interested in marrying, unwed cohabitation presented some cultural challenges. Nothing that couldn’t be overcome, of course… but worth considering. Most relevant was the issue that both were extremely set in their ways. They weren’t entirely sure they wanted to give up their spaces. They decided to decide when they returned to Melbourne.

The decision worked out very quickly thanks to little Teddy Collins. Hugh Theobald Collins Jr. was born right about the time Phryne and Jack set off from Egypt on their airship adventure. The family Collins still resided at Wardlow when the globetrotting detectives finally made their way home, but by that time little “Teddy” as he was known, had mastered screaming at the top of his lungs and running headlong into things— not necessarily in that order. Phryne and Jack adored their godson,  _(honourary nephew, Master of St. Kilda—he had a few titles bestowed on him)_ just not hearing his screaming at 2:00 in the morning… or having to mind where they put glassware… life with a toddler was one commitment they weren’t quite prepared to make! And so, during the second 2:00 a.m. teething/screaming fit, they hit on the solution: Jack would move in, the Collins family would move out. The family Collins officially moved into Chez Robinson within the week.

Phryne let herself into the blissfully quiet Wardlow. She was both exhausted and parched. Her first stop was the drinks cart where she poured herself a couple of fingers of gin, a generous helping of tonic, and added some lime. As she was mixing her G and T, Mr. Butler appeared. “The Inspector rang, Miss,” she turned her attention to him, “he sent his apologies and said he might not be able to make it home for dinner.”

She nodded lightly at him, “Thank you, Mr. Butler. I might lie down for a little while if you can hold my dinner for a bit.”

“Of course, Miss.” He bowed lightly and left her alone. She took a long gulp of her drink and decided to just head to her… _their_ room.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Phryne?” his deep voice stroked her consciousness gently as she gradually became aware his fingers were doing the same to her hair.

“Mmm… Jack?” she blinked herself awake to find the concerned blue eyes of Jack Robinson studying her. The room was dim but for his bedside lamp. _How long had she slept?_ She’d only meant to take a short nap and it wasn’t even close to dusk when she put her head to the pillow. The fingers stroking her hair made a pausing stroke over her forehead.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked gently, “Mr. Butler said you didn’t come down for dinner. It’s already half nine.”

She reached her hand to the back of his head to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck the way she knew he loved. He closed his eyes in enjoyment for a moment.

“Yes,” she finally answered him after taking mental stock of her mind and body. She felt relatively refreshed. She wasn’t sure what had come over her earlier or why she was suddenly so tired, but she felt fine now. She did still have a pang of worry that she’d need to have some difficult conversations with Jack soon, but seeing him so close to her right now, she felt nothing but love and desire. “Yes, I feel fine. Have you eaten yet?” He shook his head lightly.

“No. Just got home. Join me?” She nodded and pulled his head to hers for a lingering kiss. His growling stomach broke them apart.

“Come on, Inspector,” She said pushing him up and herself behind him, “Let’s get you fed.”

They made their way down to the dining room and Jack let Mr. Butler know they were ready to eat.

“What kept you so late this evening, Darling?” Phryne asked handing him a drink as he stepped back into the dining room. They settled into their usual spots waiting for Mr. Butler to bring out the meal he’d kept warm for them.

Jack took a long sip as he raised his eyebrows collecting the story, setting down the glass he began, “It’s a bit odd, really. A young nurse,” he thought for a moment, “twenty-three, I think… just dropped dead in the middle of her rounds. No signs of foul play, she had been agitated, but there aren’t any marks or suffocation… no obvious signs of poison.” Phryne looked at him in widening horror. “It looks like a heart attack… but she’s only twenty-three. Such a shame, really. Pretty girl. So, they called us… Phryne?” She startled at her name. He reached across the table for her fingers. “Phryne, love, what is it?” She had gone pale.

“What,” her voice sounded raw and scratchy. She cleared her throat. “What was her name?” He stared at her trying to work out what was going on with her. He speculated she might have a new case and perhaps this was connected.

“Uh… Marjory,” he answered eventually, stroking her fingers, “Marjory Murdockson.”

Phryne’s brows pinched together in confusion. “Are you sure?” she said sharply.

Jack looked at her in surprise. “Um… yes, quite sure. Her parents made a positive identification this evening.”

“Where did she work?” she asked.

“Royal Melbourne Hospital. She was a nurse in the mother’s ward.”

“Royal Melbourne… what did she look like?” Something wasn’t sitting right with Phryne and she couldn’t quite place it. She felt like it had to be connected to Rebecca Isaacs. It was really only a gut feeling. A moment ago, she had a sinking feeling that Jack was about to tell her the young woman she met earlier today was dead. He had not. But her intuition was screaming at her that there was more to this story than met the eye.

“Uh… as I said, pretty… dark hair. Light skin. Dark brown eyes. Maybe your height. Slender,” Jack was trying to get a read on Phryne’s reactions, “Do you know something, Phryne?”

“I met someone today that fits that exact description, Jack,” said Phryne, “a nurse who works with Mac. Also agitated… young, pretty, dark hair and brown eyes, light skin, slender… Rebecca Isaacs. She got away from something… ‘ghosts’ she said that still haunt her. She used to work at Royal Melbourne Hospital, as well.”

Jack nodded, “Look, I don’t know yet if there even is a case… It’s rare, but heart attacks do claim young people sometimes… especially in stressful jobs.”

“But, Jack…” Phryne started to protest. He held up his hand to pacify her.

“I called Mac tonight, she’s going to perform the autopsy and run tests to see if Marjory Murdockson was poisoned or otherwise drugged,” he squeezed her fingers lightly, “I’m not officially bringing you in yet, but feel free to make some inquiries…” he twitched his lips at her, “not that I could stop you.”

“Thank you, Jack.” She offered him a wan smile.

Jack’s brow creased briefly with worry but before he could press the matter, Mr. Butler entered the dining room with their food.

“Oh, wonderful, Mr. Butler!” Phryne shook herself out of her funk, “I’m famished.”  Jack remembered that he, too was starving and dug in with gusto.

After supper, they retired to the parlor. Jack poured them each another drink before joining Phryne on the chaise. She made space for him, and then settled into his side.

“Are you planning to go out tonight?” he asked stroking her arm before taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm… I’m not sure,” she said lightly.

“It’s up to you,” he was resigned. He was always resigned.

She loved that he gave her full autonomy of her life, but she was starting to resent that he didn’t have any interest in being a partner in decisions that might affect both of them. The rational part of her brain raised an eyebrow at her emotive brain and pointed out that she hadn’t shared any of these thoughts with Jack and to expect him to just understand them was fundamentally unfair. Her emotive brain stuck out her tongue and sulked off at that observation.

“I am _aware_ that it’s up to me,” she said rather more sharply than she intended.

He stopped stroking her arm. She froze. _Damn._ She did not want to get into this right now. Where had that come from?

“Phryne?” he asked cautiously, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

She sighed heavily, “I’m sorry, Jack,” she turned to face him, placing a hand on his cheek. His eyes were searching hers for signs of danger, “I think the ‘possibly not a case’ conversation from earlier rattled me more than I thought. Rebecca Isaacs… there was something so— familiar— about her fear.”

He nodded at her, staying silent.

“I don’t really want to go out if you have a better offer, Jack,” she looked at him hopefully.

His eyes softened, pupils dilating slightly. He graced her with a short show of his dimples and crow’s feet as he smiled, “I think we can probably think of something,” he said his voice dropping to a low seductive rumble. He moved his face closer to hers, invading her personal space to bring his lips close to hers but just out of reach, “draughts, perhaps?” He ghosted a kiss to the side of her mouth. “Or maybe backgammon?” Another light kiss on the other side, “All fours?”

She hummed at him, stroking her fingertip along his jawline, “All fours the card game, or is that a proposition for the boudoir?”

He lightly licked her bottom lip, “Ladies choice.”

“You know my opinion of card games, Jack.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne takes up the cause of fighting to protect the sweet Nurse Isaacs and avenge Marjory Murdockson... but Jack isn't seeing the evidence the way that she does.

“Good morning, Miss.”

Sunlight hit her harshly as the increasingly pleasantly rotund Dorothy Collins opened her curtains. Phryne stretched her arms out and felt that Jack had obviously been gone from the bed for some time. She felt a little guilty for getting to sleep in after the rigor of their activities the previous evening, but she still felt deliciously sated and slightly sore—the guilt was fleeting. Whatever their other issues, compatibility in the boudoir was not one that currently concerned her.

“Miss Phryne, there is a Miss Isaacs waiting in the parlor for you,” Dot informed her, Phryne opened her eyes wide and sat up quickly.

“ _Rebecca_ Isaacs?” she asked.

“I believe so. Yes, Miss.” Dot nodded at her. Phryne launched herself out of bed and threw open her closet. “Dot, tell Miss Isaacs I will be down directly.”

“Of course, Miss Phryne,” Dot waddled toward the door, “I’ve made tea.”

“Oh… thank you, Dot! You really are marvelous.”

Fewer than ten minutes later Phryne glided into the parlor to greet a nervous looking Rebecca Isaacs who seemed lost in thought. Her eyes and nostrils were lined red and her face was puffy. The hair that had been neatly pinned back under the nurse’s cap yesterday was loosely tied with floating tendrils crooking unappealingly away from her face. She was still a pretty girl, but she was not looking her best this morning.

“Miss Isaacs, I’m so sorry to have kept you!” The young woman startled at her entrance, fumbling with her tea cup as she tried to stand in greeting. “Oh… Miss Fisher…”

“Don’t get up,” Phryne stopped her with a warm smile, “I’ll join you.” Miss Isaacs sank slowly back into her chair with a small nod. “How can I help you, Miss Isaacs?”

The young woman in question picked up her cup again without meeting Phryne’s eyes. She seemed to be trying to collect her strength to share her story so Phryne gave her a moment. Phryne poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it, waiting.

“I…” Miss Isaacs began, and then sucked her lips into her mouth. Phryne looked at her encouragingly. “I think I may need your help after all… I believe my life is in danger.”

“Oh my,” Phryne took a sip of her tea, “Please go on. Tell me everything you can.” Miss Isaacs considered for a moment before nodding and beginning her story.

“Last year, I began working at Royal Melbourne shortly after finishing school,” she began, “At first I was very happy there…” she took a sip, considering. “And then I met Brian… uh, Dr. Gilbert.”

Phryne waited for a moment before she pressed, “Who is Dr. Gilbert?”

The young nurse’s eyes dampened but tears didn’t fall. She shook her head lightly trying to collect herself.

“He was lovely… at first.” Phryne closed her eyes, stealing her nerves. She thought she knew where this was going. “He would flirt, and say such nice things…” Miss Isaacs put down her cup and took a handkerchief out of her pocket, “we stepped out a couple of times… and then…” she trailed off.

“And then he changed.” Phryne finished for her.  She nodded, dabbing at her eyes.

Miss Isaacs nodded, closing her eyes. “He started getting jealous,” she said softly, “It was little things… jokes really… or so I thought at first.”

“Jokes?”

The young woman’s eyes darted to Phryne’s, “Uh, yes… it seemed that way. I’d be talking to another doctor and he’d walk up to us laughing saying such as, ‘Hands off. This one’s taken’” she mimicked a deeper voice, “But then it would get more serious.”

“How so?” Phryne pressed.

“It wasn’t just at hospital. I started seeing him all over. Where I do my shopping, at the zoo in Royal Park, even when I went to Hepburn Springs! No matter where I went… “ she clutched at her handkerchief in frustration, “Brian always seemed to be there. He told me…” she stared off at nothing.

“What did he tell you, Miss Isaacs?”

Tears were forming in her eyes, “He told me I was his and… and that he would never leave me... but,” she wiped at her eyes with the handkerchief, “It wasn’t romantic. It was a threat.”

Phryne nodded in understanding. Yes, she was getting a very familiar picture of this Dr. Brian Gilbert. A very familiar picture, indeed. Feelings of her own youth in Paris started to bubble to the surface.

The young woman took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before slumping with an exhale. Her hand passed over eyes as she touched her fingertips to her forehead. “I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I moved and didn’t tell anyone I was leaving. I got the job at Women’s Hospital and thought everything was fine…”

“You did the right thing. That took a lot of courage. So, what happened?” Phryne asked, “Why do you think your life is in danger now, Miss Isaacs?”

Miss Isaacs looked at her with wide eyes for a long moment. She finally looked away and shook her head. She continued her story, “A few weeks ago, I saw one of my former classmates who still works at Royal Melbourne… Doris… She told me Bri… Dr. Gilbert had found a new girlfriend.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? He’s moved on?” Phryne tried to encourage with a gentle smile.

“I… I thought so… but, now I’m not so sure. Doris called me last night… the girl he was seeing before me…” Phryne nodded at her encouragingly. “Marjory. She dropped dead yesterday afternoon.” Phryne looked at her in horror. “What if… what if he’s done something?”

Phryne looked down at her tea cup. “Why would you think that?” Her voice was unexpectedly ragged with emotion.

“One of the last things he told me… before I left,” Miss Isaacs said quietly, “he… he said… I belonged to him… and no one else would ever have me… for as long as I lived… and that…,” A tear dropped down her cheek, “and that…was up to him. I… I was afraid… but I didn’t think… and now Marjory… what if…”

“Do you know if he acted the same way to Marjory? As possessive?” Phryne asked, trying to get more information.

The young woman shook her head, “I’m sorry… I don’t. I wish I had paid more attention… He just kept calling her horrible names. I… I don’t want to say them.”

Phryne’s eyes were also filled with tears. “I won’t let him hurt you, Miss Isaacs,” her voice was low, ragged, and filled with a rage that was directed more at her own demons than Dr. Brian Gilbert.

“Please… call me Rebecca.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rebecca had to get to work, and now, so did Phryne. Her first stop was City South. She swept through the station without pause greeting Constable Blalock as she passed, “Hello, Bill! Is he in?” 

“Yes, Miss,” Constable Blalock barely glanced up as the blur of aubergine chiffon and ebony hair glided past him.

She knocked on the door, opening it at the same time, “Hello, Jack!” she said brightly.

Jack Robinson looked up from his stack of paperwork and greeted her with a smile, “Miss Fisher,” he said tossing his pen down and leaning back in his chair, “what brings you in today?”

She closed the door behind her and rounded the desk. He held his arms out and she dropped lightly into his lap, looping her arms around his neck. She brought her lips to his and kissed him soundly.

“Hello,” he said softly as she pulled away.

“We’ve got a case, Darling!” she said excitedly.

“Have we really?” he asked, “Which case is that?”

“Marjory Murdockson!” Phryne said, “I feel confident she was murdered,”

Jack lifted his eyebrows, “And why is that?”

“Rebecca Isaacs came to see me this morning,” Phryne reported, “Both she and Marjory used to see the same doctor at Royal Melbourne… the doctor who was the reason that Rebecca Isaacs suddenly switched jobs, moved, and didn’t tell anyone where she was going.”

“Hmm. That is interesting,” he said very placidly.

“Don’t you find that suspicious?” She pushed back from him with her hands on his shoulders.

He kept his arms around her waist. His face was stone, but his eyes were dancing at her, “Extremely, suspicious, Miss Fisher, considering I just got off the telephone with Dr. MacMillan and Marjory Murdockson was definitely poisoned.”

“Oh!” she rolled her eyes at him as he broke his stony mask and grinned at her. “That was fast. How did she determine so quickly?”

“I’m not sure,” Jack replied with a smirk, “I was just on my way there if you’d like to join me.”

“Try and stop me,” she leaned forward to kiss him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded as she pulled away.

As they headed out of the station, Jack stopped to talk to his constable, “Blalock, have Collins meet us at the morgue. His shift is due to start soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m still running tests, but from what I’ve found,” Mac said with confidence, “my money is on hydrofluoric acid.”

Jack’s jaw clenched and Phryne blanched, “That sounds unpleasant,” Phryne stated, “how do you think it was administered?”

“I’m seeing burn scarring in the trachea and lungs, and some evidence that Miss Murdockson was asthmatic. Did she have a nebulizer?” Mac turned to Jack in enquiry.

He pulled out his notebook, “Ah… yes, an Pneumostat electronic nebulizer was found in Miss Murdockson’s flat. I’ll have Collins bring it back here for you to test for hydrofluoric acid.”

“Even a small amount in could have induced the cardiac arrest and caused the burn scarring,” Mac declared, “Tell Collins to be careful.”

Jack left Phryne and Mac to head Hugh off at the entrance to the morgue.

“Have you talked to him yet?” Mac asked.

“Have I talked to who yet?” Phryne asked in a high-pitched voice that told Mac that she knew exactly who they were talking about and the answer was “ _No_.”

“Phryne…”

“Mac.”  The women stared at each other over the corpse of the young nurse. Neither of them were going to budge on this issue. But as it didn’t really concern her, Mac looked away first.

“Rebecca Isaacs came to visit me this morning,” Phryne directed the subject back to the case, “The problems she solved are not so solved after all… and may be connected to our young guest here,” she pointed at the body between them.

“Really?”

“Mmm. Do you know anything about Dr. Brian Gilbert?” Phryne asked.

“Ah… a little, but only by reputation. I think we’ve been to a luncheon or two, but we’ve never spoken to the best of my recollection,” Mac stated, “Why?”

“What is his reputation?” Phryne asked.

Mac thought for a moment, “He’s younger, maybe early thirties. Brilliant doctor from what I’ve heard.”

“Any scandals?” Phryne probed, “reputation for being a Lothario?”

“Not as far as I know… look, why so many questions about this Dr. Gilbert?” Mac was getting annoyed.

“According to Rebecca, both she and Miss Murdockson here were past paramours of the allegedly good doctor.”

“Ah… well, that sounds like an excellent line of investigation for your Inspector and yourself,” Mac declared, “I’ll stick to the science, thank you very much.”

Phryne rolled her eyes at her friend, “Fine,” she said with a huff, “But Rebecca didn’t mention Dr. Gilbert as the reason for her leaving Royal Melbourne?”

“Phryne, I really can’t discuss personnel questions with you like that, but the short answer is, ‘no’ that wasn’t the reason she gave for leaving Royal Melbourne.”

“That’s odd,” Phryne scrunched her brows together.

“Not really, Phryne. It could have been a contributing factor and one she decided not to include in her application. Look, I can’t give you details, but it had to do with a disagreement about medication that wasn’t her fault… and that’s already more than I should tell you,” Mac said after looking around for secret listeners, “ask her yourself.”

 

Phryne caught up with Jack as Hugh was departing. Jack had instructed him to head back over to the Murdockson flat to ( _carefully_ ) pick up the Pneumostat and return it to Mac.

“Royal Melbourne?” he asked. She nodded and they started walking toward the Hispano Suiza.

“Why would Rebecca Isaacs tell me one thing about why she left Royal Melbourne and tell Mac another?” Phryne wondered out-loud as they walked arm-in-arm.

“Any number of reasons,” Jack offered, “it could be as simple as she didn’t want her new employer to know she’d been romantically involved with a doctor.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s possible,” Phryne still had a funny feeling about this case, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

 

* * *

 

 

When the detectives arrived at Royal Melbourne Hospital they were first directed to the office of Dr. Joseph Florey, the director of the hospital.

“What happened to Nurse Murdockson is a terrible tragedy,” Dr. Florey was doing everything in his power to be as blamelessly helpful as possible, “but murder? Surely not.”

“All the same, Dr. Florey,” pressed Jack, “we’d like to have a word with Dr. Gilbert if you could summon him for us.”

“Yes,” Dr. Florey finally agreed, “alright. Hilda!” he called out to his secretary, who came into the office immediately, “get Brian Gilbert up here right away won’t you, doll?”

“What was the relationship between Dr. Gilbert and Nurse Murdockson?” Phryne asked.

The head of the hospital laughed, “As far as I know, doctor and nurse only,” he smiled, “but they keep all kinds of things from the boss, don’t they?”

“You weren’t aware of any rumors that they were a couple?” Phryne seemed shocked.

“Miss Fisher, is it?” he shot her a condescending look, “I have better things to do with my time than to keep track of the office gossip. We have rules… and I expect people to follow them. If I find out they haven’t, then I get involved.”

“Did you ever get involved handling gossip or anything else with a nurse by the name of Rebecca Isaacs?” Phryne pushed.

Dr. Florey paused for a moment to look at her carefully, “Why are you asking about Rebecca Isaacs?”

Something in his eyes triggered an emotional response in Phryne to be extremely careful here. Rebecca was still in danger, from either Brian Gilbert—or Gilbert and someone else. She needed to be careful. She couldn’t let anyone here at Royal Melbourne know where Rebecca was now. She glanced at Jack, but for the first time since—well, it seemed like the first time since Gertie Haynes—he did not seem to be picking up on her tacit conversation.

He narrowed his eyes at her as if to say, _“What?”_ but was saved from the tacit argument by the knock at the door.

“Come,” Florey barked at the door.

Hilda opened it, “Dr. Florey, Dr. Gilbert is in the staff meeting room waiting for Inspector Robinson and Miss Fisher whenever they’re ready,” the tight-lipped blonde reported.

“Yes, ah… thank you Hilda,” he turned to the detectives, “If you need anything else, check with Hilda. Good day to you both,” he ended rather tersely.

Hilda led them down the hall to a small conference room. They were met there by a nice-looking man in his early thirties with blonde hair and hazel eyes. He had taken off his identifying coat, but he greeted the pair as they came in, “I’m Dr. Brian Gilbert. You wanted to speak with me?”

Jack glanced at Phryne and noted that she was clenching her fists, so he decided it would be safest for him to start, “Yes, Dr. Gilbert. Thank you for your time. We wanted to ask you a few questions regarding the death of Marjory Murdockson.”

Dr. Gilbert frowned in sadness, “Yes, such a tragedy. And so shocking for such a young lady.”

“Dr. Gilbert, we understand you used to be in a relationship with the deceased, is that true?” Jack continued.

Dr. Gilbert let out an involuntary laugh, “Uh… I wouldn’t call it a relationship. We… I took her out to dinner one time about two years ago. We had an agreeable enough evening, I thought, but she declined to accept another invitation.”

“Did that anger you?” Phryne almost spit out at him. The venom of the statement caused both Jack and Dr. Gilbert to look at her in surprise.

“Um… No… not at all. We had a pleasant evening, she wasn’t interested in going out again. No big deal.” He shrugged, “Plenty or other fish in the sea.”

“Like Rebecca Isaacs?” Phryne pushed.

“Who?” Gilbert asked looking genuinely confused.

Phryne narrowed her eyes at him, “Young nurse who worked here until recently? You went out with her?”

Dr. Gilbert looked between the two of them trying to catch up, “Uh… Becky? We went out a few times… but not in… what? At least a year? What has she got to do with all of this?”

Jack looked nervously at Phryne and the young doctor, “Possibly nothing, Dr. Gilbert, but there may be a connection between the two.”

“You haven’t seen her in at least a year?” asked Phryne dubiously, “what about Hepburn Springs?”

Dr. Gilbert looked at her oddly, “Hepbur… what are you talking about?”

“Do you deny going to Hepburn Springs, Dr. Gilbert?” her voice was getting increasingly angry. Jack was moving closer to her.

The young man looked very confused indeed, “Of course not, I was there with Emily a few weeks ago.”

“And who is Emily!” Phryne demanded.

“Emily Flynn… she’s... well, she’s my fiancée,” the doctor admitted, “since Hepburn Springs,” with a lift of his eyebrows.

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Gilbert,” said Jack, “We’ll let you know if we have any more questions.”

He steered her out of the office and down the hallway.

Phryne turned on him with eyes flaming, “What the hell was that, Jack?”

“Excuse me?” he hissed at her, “I was about to ask you the same thing. Phryne, what is going on with you?” he reached out to her. She pulled away as if he were about to strike her.

“I told you, Jack!” Phryne was livid, “He’s been threatening _MY_ client.”

Jack closed his eyes taking a deep breath, “Phryne, all you have to go on here is her word.”

“He’s lying, Jack!” she said in shouted whisper, “I can feel it!”

He studied her for a few breaths. She was really worked up about this case. He wasn’t seeing what she was seeing but she was almost never wrong. He had learned to trust her instincts. He had also learned the hard way that fighting Phryne when she was truly passionate about something was not a battle to be taken on lightly. Nothing needed to be decided now. He would let her investigate and see where it led.  He nodded slowly. 

“Possibly, but right now there isn’t any evidence…”

“Jack!”

He continued with his hand held up to her, “there isn’t any evidence, but I won’t stop you from investigating… just… be careful, and try not to harass him. Right now, there is nothing I can do…”

“But Jack, what about the…”

“If we get anything back from the nebulizer, then we may have something to work with,” he tried smiling at her, “we’re on the same team, Miss Fisher.”

She took a deep breath trying to calm her own nerves. She knew she was letting this case get to her too much. She knew it was because it reminded her of Paris. Yes, Dr. Brian Gilbert seemed perfectly charming. He seemed like he was innocent of all of this… but a good narcissistic psychopath could do that. Convince your friends and family and everyone around you… and even convince you, that they were in the right and you were in the wrong. It was a sick game, and she wasn’t going to let Dr. Gilbert play it with Rebecca. Not if she could help it.

She moved closer to Jack, allowing him to embrace her, “Thank you, Jack.”

She agreed to drop him off at City South. She debated about whether it would be better to go back to Wardlow or to the Women’s Hospital, but decided on the latter to see if she could find Rebecca Isaacs.

As she parked the Hispano, from the bushes near the building she heard “Miss Fisher!” in a whispered cry. A terrified Rebecca Isaacs came stumbling out of the shrubs, “Miss Fisher, please, you have to help me!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne rescues Nurse Isaacs and finds out a little more about the threat. But there's something nagging at her and she can't quite figure out what it is.

“Rebecca!” Phryne caught the young nurse in her arms as she collapsed toward her, “what on earth happened?”

“Please,” Rebecca looked around nervously, “Miss Fisher… Can you get me out of here?”

Phryne agreed quickly and led her back to the car. She began driving away from the hospital before she asked the terrified young Rebecca, “Where am I taking you?”

Phryne’s heart was still racing.

“I don’t…” her head dropped into her hands, “I don’t even know, Miss Fisher.” She wept.

“I can take you home with me,” Phryne offered, “if you’d like.”

“Oh… no… I couldn’t, Miss Fisher,” Rebecca objected. After a thoughtful pause, she asked, “Do you know Barkly Gardens—in Richmond? It’s not far from here and it’s near my boarding house.”

Phryne nodded, “I know exactly where that is. It’s just up the street from Jack’s house… er,” she paused to correct, “the Collins’ house now, I suppose. Dot… Mrs. Collins. The multigravida who served you tea this morning.”

Rebecca nodded without comment. They drove the short distance from East Melbourne to Richmond and parked on Coppin Street.

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, Phryne broke the spell, “I’m sure we weren’t followed.”

Rebecca nodded mutely staring straight ahead.

“Rebecca?” Phryne asked gently, “can you tell me what this is all about?”

Rebecca blinked as if waking from a dream or hypnosis and turned to Phryne. She seemed almost surprised to see her sitting there. She then looked all around her, trying to take in the clues of her location—to get her bearings—finally she seemed to understand where she was and with whom.

She reached into her nurse’s apron pocket and pulled out a note. She hesitated, staring at the note for a moment, and then wordlessly handed it to Phryne.

Phryne took the note from her and opened it.  

 

 

 

> _Thou art forever mine. Though twilight be upon thee and our time past, I will love thee for all time. Yet did I love thee to the last,_   _B_

Phryne pursed her lips, “He’s certainly no Byron,” she looked at Rebecca carefully, “wherever did you get this?”

The young woman looked down at her feet, “I found it in my locker this morning,” she said softly, “It wasn’t there when I left yesterday.”

Phryne nodded, “Have there been any other indications that he knows where you work? Or where you live?”

Rebecca looked at her in horror, “No… I told no one!”

Phryne studied her for a moment before speaking, “Is that true? This morning you said that your friend… your school friend… who still works at Royal Melbourne? Rang you this morning.”

“Doris?” Rebecca looked at her confused, “Doris would never do anything to put me in danger!” she insisted.

“Doris. Yes. Perhaps not intentionally,” Phryne tried to help ease this thinking, “but if she said something without thinking… or didn’t understand the seriousness of the situation?”

Rebecca’s face dawned in horror. “But… she wouldn’t…”

“Did Dr. Gilbert know you were friends? Or anyone else?” Phryne asked. Rebecca nodded, “Rebecca, did Doris know where you live?”

“No… No… I was very careful about that,” Rebecca seemed so sure.

Phryne softened her eyes at her in pity, she really was so innocent. “Do you have a private telephone exchange?”

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at her, “Of course not. I live in a boarding house.”

“But… she had the boarding house telephone exchange…” Phryne tried to lead the thought. The younger woman’s eyes widened in fear.

“Anyone could tell…”

“I think I should escort you to your room,” Phryne said with deep sympathy for the girl, “and I’m going to have to insist you pack a bag. You’re coming home with me.”

They left the car parked on Coppin Street and walked around the block to Rebecca’s boarding house. The building was a rather harsh example of Victorian architecture with oddly placed Gothic arches and too many details. The painted lady aspects of the building’s finery gave the impression of “cheap whore” rather than “elegant dame”. The bottom floor of the building housed a men’s tailor shop. The top advertised “Victoria Bitter”— it occurred to Phryne that the denizens of the building were probably not the target audience for either product.

They made their way through the non-descript heavy door with the number “291” and words “Swan’s Nest” stenciled in peeling paint. There was a small entry way with a desk and darkened parlor to the right. At the desk, sat a woman smoking a cigarette and assessing the pair through incurious eyes. The woman looked as if she had a heavy hand with both the serving spoon and the makeup brush.

“Rent’s due.” She sneered at Rebecca, paying no attention to Phryne after the initial assessment.

“Yes, Mrs. Harris… if I could just have one more…”

“You said that yesterday, Miss Isaacs,” she drew a deep drag on her cigarette, “and through the goodness of my heart, I let it go,” she said with an exhale, “but I need that £10 today or you need to find another place to lay your head at night.” She said the last while poking her durry at the girl.

Rebecca looked down at her purse and started rummaging through it, she was fumbling through with shaking hands. She pulled out a sovereign, but didn’t have anything else. Tears were beginning to form, but she set her jaw.  Phryne’s heart broke for her. She reached inside her own pocketbook.

“£10… is that what she owes?” she asked the disinterested, smoking lump in front of her.

“Miss Fisher… no… I can’t let you do…” Rebecca protested.

“You aren’t letting me do anything, Rebecca,” Phryne pushed ahead.

Mrs. Harris took the money, “That will get you through the rest of the week, doll face,” she sneered, “but next month is due on time… no more free rides.”

“Miss Isaacs will not be staying,” Phryne addressed the woman haughtily, “We’ll be taking what we can, and if she has anything else I’ll be sending my staff to retrieve it. Come along, Rebecca.”

 

They had to walk up two tall flights of stairs to reach the dark hallway outside Rebecca’s room. The room itself was reasonably large for a single girl. It was on the south side of the building, away from noises of Swan Street, but since the rail line passed between the building and Barkly Gardens, occasionally train vibrations thunder through the room.

Phryne was somewhat surprised by the state of the room. Rebecca struck her as the fastidious sort, but the room was in disarray.

“Oh!” Rebecca had her hand in front of her mouth and tears in her eyes.

“This isn’t how you left it, then?” Phryne asked. The young woman shook her head, eyes wide in terror. Phryne moved forward into the room to begin investigating.

“Did you have anything of value here?” she asked. Rebecca, still glued to the threshold of the door, mutely shook her head. “Nothing at all, even papers… information?”

She thought for a moment, “Only… only things of sentimental value.”

“Did you have anything from Dr. Gilbert?

She looked around the room, moving into it as she did. “I… I don’t… maybe a photograph?” she moved quickly toward the dresser and reached for it.

“Stop!” Phryne said sharply, holding up her own gloved hands, “fingerprints,” she explained.

Phryne joined Rebecca at the dresser and opened it for her. Rebecca pointed at a small paper box, and Phryne lifted it out of the dresser. 

“There should be a picture of Bri…Dr. Gilbert and me at Luna Park in this box,” Rebecca said.

Phryne nodded at her and opened the box. There were several pictures, but they couldn’t find the one they sought. They did find something. An envelope, the same size and shape as the one found in Rebecca’s locker this morning was stuffed in the pictures. Rebecca started trembling. Phryne opened the note.

 

 

> _I will not ask where thou liest low,_
> 
> _Nor gaze upon the spot;_
> 
> _There flowers or weeds at will may grow,_
> 
> _So I behold them not:_
> 
> _It is enough for me to prove_
> 
> _That what I lov'd, and long must love,_
> 
> _Like common earth can rot;_
> 
> _To me there needs no stone to tell,_
> 
> _'T is Nothing that I lov'd so well. –B_

 

“What… what does it say, Miss Fisher?”  Rebecca asked. 

Phryne thought she recognized it as part of a Lord Byron poem. “It’s just some poetry,” she smiled wanly at Rebecca, “someone is being pretentious.”

There was a small sink and a hotplate in the room. Rebecca offered to make tea, which Phryne readily accepted. As she set kettle on to boil, Phryne excused herself to the lobby to make telephone call to Jack. Instructing Rebecca to not disturb anything but what they’d already touched.

 

* * *

 

She approached Mrs. Harris a little differently, silently kicking herself for starting out abrasive with this woman. It would make getting anything out of her more difficult now.

“Mrs. Harris?” Phryne interrupted the woman from her cigarette and copy of Table Talk.

The woman glanced over the copy of the magazine, took another drag off her durry, and returned her eyes to the magazine… but otherwise failed to recognize the lady detective.

“Mrs. Harris?” Phryne tried again, “I was wondering if I might use your telephone?”

Another drag off the cigarette.

“The telephone is for residents only.”

“Mmm… yes, well… I need it to call the police as there’s been a break in,” said Phryne tartly.

Mrs. Harris rolled her eyes, threw down her magazine, and stubbed out her cigarette.

“That’s not possible.”

Phryne crossed her arms over her chest, “And yet, it happened. Are you going to allow me to call the police or shall I do it from elsewhere and suggest that you were colluding with the intruder?”

Mrs. Harris scowled at her for a few breaths before handing her the boarding house telephone. 

Phryne quickly dialed the exchange for City South. “Get me Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, please.”

After a few moments she heard the response she craved.

“Jack Robinson, here.”

“Hello, darling.”

“Miss Fisher? I didn’t expect to hear from you until later.”

“Jack, I’m with Rebecca Isaacs. She’s received threatening notes and someone has broken into her locker at work and her room at the boarding house to deliver them. Can you send someone to the boarding house? I’ll check for prints, but I’m not optimistic.”

“I… of course… do you need me to come?” he asked.

“No, no…” she assured him, “I’ll do an initial search for prints, and secure the scene, but then I want to keep Rebecca at home with us.”

There was a pause on the phone.

“Jack?”

“Right… no, um.. yes, I suppose that makes sense,” he seemed concerned by this, but unwilling to talk about it over the telephone, “How long will she be with us?”

“At least until we figure out this mess, Jack,” Phryne said, “We have plenty of room.”

“Of course, it’s not the room,“ Jack wasn’t sure what it was, “It’s… a fine idea… I’m sure. I’ll send Blalock over to gather evidence. Where are you?”

“Wonderful! We're at her boarding house near Barkly Gardens in Richmond... the Swan's Nest?"  Phryne reported.

"I know it. I'll send Blalock... Phryne?" Jack sounded worried.

"Yes, Jack?"

"Please be care... Just don't do anything foolish."

"I love you, too Jack. I’ll see you this evening, darling.”

She hung up the telephone and turned to Mrs. Harris.  “There will be a constable coming shortly. Constable Bill Blalock.  Do let him in and direct him to Miss Isaacs room, won’t you Mrs. Harris?”

 

Phryne walked back up the two flights of stairs to Rebecca’s room and was greeted with a cup of tea.

“Oh, how marvelous! Thank you, Rebecca!” she took the tea gratefully and sat on the one chair as Rebecca stood near, “Have you noticed anything else missing?”

 “I…no. I haven’t,” Rebecca shook her head, “I don’t have much. Just my clothes and my books.” She indicated to a small shelf. Phryne scanned over the authors: Aristotle, Berzelius, Cohn, Copernicus, Curie, Darwin, Galileo, Hooke, Mendel, Mendeleev, Newton, Pavlov, and Vesalius.

“You have a very scientific library,” she picked up the Berzelius, “Dissertations in Physics, Chemistry, and Minerology,” she flipped it open, “In… Is this Swedish?”

“Oh…” Rebecca turned to see what Phryne was looking at and flushed, “Uh, yes… I’ve always been interested in the sciences. It’s a hobby.” She flashed a small smile.

“This looks like more than a hobby,” said Phryne, “Did you think of going to university? Becoming a proper scientist?”

Rebecca shook her head, “Oh no, Miss Fisher,” she said sadly, “there’s no place for women in science. Not really.”

Phryne picked up another title: _Recherches sur les substances radioactives_.

“Madame Curie might have something to say about that.”

“There are always exceptions to the rule.” Rebecca said sadly.

Phryne looked at her, “being exceptional is always a worthwhile venture.”

“I am anything but exceptional, Miss Fisher,” the young woman said softly.

Phryne shook her head at the woman, “That’s ridiculous. Anyone who reads Berzelius in Swedish and Curie in French, either with or without the benefit of a university education is, by definition, exceptional.”

A sharp pain hit Phryne behind her eyes, causing her to involuntarily bring her hands to her forehead. Massaging her brow.

“Miss Fisher? Are you alright?”

“Yes… I… I’ve just been overcome,” Phryne said, “rather suddenly.”

Rebecca went to her cupboard, and then the sink. She brought Phryne a glass. “Drink this.”

“What is it?” Phryne had trouble opening her eyes against the light. This headache was sudden and intense.

Rebecca smiled slightly, “Tincture of Salix Alba.”

Phryne held the glass skeptically.

“Aspirin,” Rebecca followed with a wider smile, “it’s perfectly safe.”

Phryne smiled and drank the glass.

 

Fewer than twenty minutes later, she was feeling better. What could have brought that on? She rarely got headaches. She made a mental note to talk to Mac about it soon.

There was a knock at the door. Rebecca turned wide eyes at it and froze. Phryne looked at the door and then at the young nurse. She stood and walked to answer it.

“Yes?” she called through the door.

“Miss Fisher?” Constable Blalock called through the door. She let him in.

“Bill! So nice of you to join us,” Phryne let the man into the room.

As suspected, there were no prints other than Rebecca Isaacs, and some old prints… presumably from past tenants. Phryne suspected that the cleaning process between residents was less than rigorous. Bill took the report about the found notes and he and Phryne noted that it was possible for an intruder to gain access to the third floor of the building via the open window at the end of the hall and the fire escape. This boarding house wasn’t exactly the most secure location in Melbourne.

The two women got to work packing up Rebecca’s short life while Blalock finished up his investigation.

It took them a little over an hour to pack, to talk, to cry, to worry, to go back to packing, and finally get ready to fly away from the Swan’s Nest forever.

 

* * *

 

It was close to 4:00 PM when they entered Wardlow, carrying handfuls of Rebecca’s belongings. They were greeted by Mr. Butler.

“Mr. Butler, please set Miss Isaacs up in Dot’s old room for now. She’ll be with us until we can find her a better solution.”

“Very good, Miss Fisher,” Mr. Butler agreed and led the young woman up the stairs to her new room.

 

Phryne made her way into the parlor and poured herself a Scotch whisky. It had been an exhausting day. She needed the fortification. She took a seat in an armchair near the fireplace and began to sift through the day in her mind. It would not have been difficult for Dr. Gilbert to get into Rebecca’s room unnoticed through the fire escape window, but something about that scenario was nagging at her. Something about the room was nagging at her and she couldn’t quite place it. The pain of her headache that Rebecca’s homemade aspirin had vanquished started to resurface as she tried mentally poking around the room for clues.

And Dr. Gilbert was a crafty devil. She sneered internally at him. So good at the innocent act. She’d need to keep close tabs on him. She made a note to get Bert and Cec to follow him after his shift. Even a devil trips up sometimes. She’d be there to catch him when he did.

And Dr. Florey seemed a little odd as well, there was something he said… what was it?

 

Phryne jumped up from her seat and headed to the kitchen where she found Dot pulling a loaf of bread out of the oven.

“Dot! Mr. Butler is getting Miss Isaacs settled upstairs in your old room,” Phryne was speaking quickly and grabbing a biscuit on her way out the back door, “I know you’re leaving for the day soon, but… Oh… Hello, Teddy!” she tousled the toddler’s blonde hair, “I know you’re leaving soon… “

“Miss…” Dot tried to interrupt her.

“…but can you make sure she gets something to eat?” She fired off as she opened the door and started to walk out of it.

“MISS!” Dot shouted. It was very unlike her to raise her voice. In truth, at home, it was becoming _very much_ like her… but it was very unlike her in _this_ context and location. It did the trick at least. Phryne stopped dead in her tracks.

She turned to look wide-eyed at her companion, “Yes, Dot?” She asked in a high-pitched voice.

Dot set down the steaming bread, “Miss, Doctor MacMillan rang from the morgue. She wanted you to stop by.”

“Oh!” Phryne said with a start, “Thank you, Dot. I’ll drop in. Were there any other messages? Did Jack telephone?”

“No Miss Phryne.”

“Thank you, Dot!” she said with another tousle of Teddy’s hair _(earning her an unseen sneer from the toddler)_ , “Will you let Mr. Butler know not to hold dinner for me?”  Dot agreed. Phryne grabbed another biscuit and headed out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne investigates some leads in the case, and gets caught up in some trouble.

“You summoned me?” Phryne’s plan to go to Royal Melbourne was temporarily thwarted toward the morgue. Mac was just finishing up another unrelated autopsy when she arrived.

“If I actually had the power to summon Phryne Fisher, my life would be very different,” smirked Mac, “But I did ask you to drop by, yes. Where’s your partner?” Mac asked.

“My partner?” Phryne looked at her confused.

“Detective Inspector… City South… about so tall,” Mac gestured with her hand, “you share your bed with him? Ring any bells?”

Phryne rolled her eyes, “I didn’t know if you meant Jack or Dot… she sometimes,,,”she trailed off as Mac gave her a sarcastic look.

“Yes, clearly I meant the very pregnant woman and not the officer of the law.”

“Didn’t you call him as well?” Phryne queried in a high-pitched voice.

“I figured you were working this together.”

Phryne felt a momentary pang of remorse for not letting Jack know she was coming here, but she decided quickly she’d just catch him up later.

“So, what did you find?” She asked Mac.

“There was definitely hydrofluoric acid in her nebulizer,” Mac reported, “I had Collins go back and get the vials adrenaline chloride, which is the medicine used in the nebulizer, and it seems like small quantities of the hydrofluoric acid were introduced into several of the vials, but I haven’t been able to determine when. It’s possible I might be able to figure it out based on the concentration and breakdown of the glass... but I’ll need more time.”

“Who would be able to do something like that?” Phryne asked.

“Hydrofluoric acid isn’t that difficult to get. It’s a fairly common rust remover. Motorcar repair garages would have it easily enough. Hospitals keep it on hand, of course. I would bet even Mr. Butler has some,” Mac said.

“But who would know how to get it into the adrenaline chloride?” pressed Phryne.

“Getting it in there isn’t that difficult. Doing it in the right amounts so that it doesn’t melt the bottle or instantly kill the victim would take some finesse… or luck. If it were intentional, I’d say a pharmacist or a chemist or possibly even a biologist. It could possibly be a doctor, as we have to study the effects of the medicines we prescribe and both chemistry and biology are a big part of that,” Mac mused.

Phryne stood to leave. She had a sudden rush of pain behind her eyes and a wave of dizziness hit her. One hand reached out to catch herself while the other shielded her eyes from the suddenly painful light in the morgue.

“Phryne! What in the hell is going on?” Mac was next to her in an instant, forcing her to sit again. She moved Phryne’s hand away from her eyes and took her chin in hand to tilt Phryne’s face up to her.

Phryne blinked painfully at her, “It’s nothing Mac. Just some kind of sinus headache, I think. I meant to ask you about it. It comes and goes.”

“Sinus headache?” Mac looked at her dubiously, “Any other symptoms?”

Phryne shrugged lightly, “Not as such. Maybe a little overly tired. I fell asleep yesterday afternoon and didn’t wake up until Jack got home after dark.”

Mac put her hand on Phryne’s head and then on both sides of her neck behind her ears, feeling along her lymph nodes. “Hmm. I’d rather do this in my office than the morgue.”

“I don’t feel sick. Just the headaches and sometimes I get tired.” Phryne reported.

Mac was still feeling her neck, “Any nausea at all?”

“No. None.”

“What about your menses?” Mac queried.

“I’m not pregnant. We’ve been very careful.” Phryne insisted.

Mac looked at her reprovingly, “How many times have I had to tell you, Phryne? That diaphragm isn’t fool proof. There’s still a chance of pregnancy… even if you use it properly every time.”

“Well, I don’t have any nausea. It’s likely just a sinus headache. Can’t you just give me a powder… or something?” Phryne asked.

Mac rolled her eyes, “Nausea isn’t always a part of it, darling girl. I’d prefer to do a test. I don’t have everything I need to do the test here. Come to the Women’s Hospital tomorrow.”

“That poor rabbit,” said Phryne sadly, “Can’t I leave you the… sample?”

Mac sighed as she stood, “The things I do for you, Phryne Fisher. Fine. Ladies is down the hall,” She handed Phryne a specimen jar, “Don’t make a mess.”

Phryne carefully stood. Head still throbbing and made her way to the lavatory.

Mac was on the telephone when she returned, “I’ll let you know. I have to go,” she said as she disconnected.

“Who was that?” Phryne asked.

“What?” Mac looked at her confused and then at the telephone, “On the telephone? A… just a detective. Different case.”

Phryne eyed her suspiciously. Had Mac just called Jack behind her back? She narrowed her eyes at her oldest friend. “Are you sure that wasn’t Jack?”

Mac shot her an incredulous look, “What? Of course, I’m sure. I know what Jack Robinson sounds like. That decidedly wasn’t him.”

“You called Jack behind my back, didn’t you?!” Phryne accused Mac, “You told him about the headaches… and everything… Oh God… Mac! Why!? Why would you do that?”

“Phryne!” Mac grabbed her by the shoulders and insisted, “I did NOT talk to Jack! But I think you need to.”

Phryne huffed, “I’m fine.”

“And if you are pregnant? What then?” Mac asked.

Phryne shrugged Mac's hands off her shoulders. “Then I’ll talk to him. But no need to worry him for a headache. Speaking of which…” Phryne looked hopefully at Mac.

Mac went to her bag, “Here. Don’t take a lot of them, “ she handed Phryne a bottle, “It’s essentially cocaine. Low dose... But it should help with the sinus pain.”

“Thank you, Mac,” Phryne said taking the bottle, “Look... I’m sorry I accused you… this case is just getting to me.”

“Got what you needed, then?” Mac said grumpily.

“Yes, I believe so. Thank you, Mac,” Phryne agreed. She moved toward the door but paused before exiting. “One more question, Mack.”

Mack looked at her with eyebrows raised in inquiry.

“Did she suffer?”

“Phryne… you don’t want to know th…”

“Mac.”

“It would have been a terrifying and painful way to die,” said Mac sadly, “but it was relatively quick.”

Phryne nodded and walked out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne took two of the pills as she left the morgue and drove herself over to Royal Melbourne Hospital. She made her way to Dr. Florey’s office to find Hilda, his secretary. Hilda Beattie was a stern looking blonde woman with thin press of lips. Her face was made up of harsh angles and deep hollows. The effect was made more severe by the tightly pulled back bun hairstyle she wore.

She looked up at Phryne as she entered the office, but failed to greet her.

“Is Dr. Florey in?” Phryne asked her.

She studied Phryne for a moment in a look that could be most accurately read as ‘disdain’ before she answered. “He is not.”

Phryne smiled tightly, “Well, that's alright... I’d really like to speak to you Ms. Beattie.”

Hilda looked at her skeptically, “What do you want, Miss Fisher?”

“I know that Dr. Florey said he knew nothing about Dr. Gilbert and Nurse Murdockson,” began Phryne, “But you know everything that happens in this hospital, don’t you Ms. Beattie?”

The stern woman looked at Phryne carefully. A smile slowly creeped slowly along her tight mouth.  The effect was slightly alarming and vaguely sinister, but Phryne smiled encouragingly in return.

“Perhaps.”

“Dr. Gilbert claims he only had casual dates with Nurse Murdockson and Nurse Isaacs. Were you aware of anything different?”

“I’m sure _he_ thought that,” replied the woman, “but those women… I think he charmed them. They weren’t ready to let him go.”

“Hold on,” said Phryne, “Dr. Gilbert said he only went out once with Marjory Murdockson, and that she turned him down after that.”

“I don’t know the particulars of their date, Miss Fisher. But they seemed quite chummy for some time. And the word around the nurse’s station was that _he_ jilted _her_. She was very stand-offish after that and barely spoke with anyone,” she shared.

“What about Rebecca Isaacs?” Phryne asked.

Hilda eyed her cautiously, “I can’t say much about Nurse Isaacs.”

“Why not?”

“I can tell you that she seemed completely taken in by Dr. Gilbert. She would do whatev… I can’t really say anything else about it, Miss Fisher.”

"Who could say?" Phryne asked.

"I... I suppose Dr. Florey could tell you...I just can't say anything or ... I just can't say..." Hilda was flushed. She looked very nervous.

“When will Dr. Florey be in?”

“Not until tomorrow. He’s gone home for the afternoon.”

Phryne pursed her lips in thought. She needed to know more about why no one would talk to her about Rebecca.

“Is Emily Flynn a nurse here? Dr. Gilbert’s fiancée?” Phryne asked the blonde woman.

“She was. She resigned this week. Her last day was two days ago,” Hilda reported.

“That’s interesting. Do you have a forwarding address for Miss Flynn?” Phryne asked.

Hilda nodded and went to her file cabinet. She found the file and copied down the address for Phryne. It was a boarding house in Fitzroy. Phryne recognized the address from another case she had worked before she left for England.

“One more question, Ms. Beattie,” Phryne said as put the address in her purse, “Is there a nurse who was close to Nurse Isaacs by the first name of ‘Doris’… possibly around the same age?”

“Doris Counts? We have several nurses named Doris, but that would be my guess. They were on the same ward.”

“Can you tell me is Nurse Counts working now?” Phryne asked.

Hilda went to her chart, “Uh… yes. Her shift ends in about ten minutes.”

“Thank you… what about Dr. Gilbert?” Phryne pressed.

“His shift is over, but he might still be around. He sometimes stays later,” the woman responded.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then. You really are the power in this hospital, Ms. Beattie,” Phryne praised her.

The woman smiled more easily at her, “Please, call me Hilda.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne headed to the Mother’s ward to find Doris Counts. She asked the sister at the reception desk and was pointed to a plump young woman about Rebecca’s age. She had ashy blonde hair that she tried to tame into finger waves, but the waves had become choppy throughout the day’s chores. She was a few inches shorter that Phryne, and looked completely exhausted. Her face was shiny with the sheen of sweat under her makeup and her mascara had left her looking a little like a panda who’d lost her bamboo.

“Doris Counts?” Phryne approached her carefully.

The young woman looked up at her cautiously. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Miss Counts, I’m Phryne Fisher — I’m a friend of Rebecca Isaacs.” Phryne noted Doris’s face darkening.

“Who?” The nurse seemed to almost sneer the response back at her.

Phryne was taken aback. This was unexpected. “What do you mean ‘Who?’” she demanded, “You used to work with her, you graduated with her… you rang her on the telephone just this morning… she’s your friend! Rebecca Isaacs!”

Doris Counts looked at her for a long moment, “I remember a Rebecca Isaacs from my class and who worked here, but she left a while ago… I can’t remember when,” Doris looked her deeply in the eye, “But the idea that we are or were ever _friends_ … is absurd. And I wouldn’t even know how to ring her... even if I want it to… which I never would.” She practically spat this last. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. My shift is over. I’ve had a very long day. I’d like to go home.”

Phryne nodded in stunned silence and let the woman pass. Either Doris Counts was lying or Rebecca was. She’s have to dig into Doris a little more. Before she got too far down that path of thought, she spotted Dr. Gilbert walking out of the hospital.

She’d seen him, but he hadn’t seen her. She followed him to the parking lot and watched him get into his navy-blue Holden and then she rushed over to the Hispano Suiza.

It was almost painful trailing someone driving so slow, but Phryne was able to keep several car lengths behind. They headed south, across the Yarra, past the Royal Botanical Gardens, toward St. Kilda. Not heading to see his fiancée then, at least not at her last known address. They drove through St. Kilda into Elwood, and the Holden turned onto Byron Street. Byron! Lord Byron? Phryne’s mind was racing… was that a clue? Could that be a clue? The headache from earlier had come roaring back. The Holden pulled into the driveway of a white, art-deco style home. Phryne parked the Hispano and waited. Her head was pounding so she took another couple of Mac's pills.

It was twilight, nearing dusk. She watched a light come on in the house. After a few minutes, she quietly exited the motorcar and walked down the street. She really wasn’t prepared for reconnaissance in her light-colored driving coat over aubergine chiffon, but she told herself wouldn’t stay long. She’d just have a quick look and make sure this was the right place, then set Bert and Cec on the job. She just needed to have a look.  

She approached the house carefully. It was close to the street, as were all the other houses in the neighborhood. Like much of Melbourne, the houses were built close together. Elwood wasn’t quite as fancy a neighborhood as St. Kilda, but there was money here. It was no Collingwood.

The house itself was a respectable size. Not nearly as large as Wardlow, but at least twice as large as Jack’s…the Collins’ bungalow in Richmond. It was two-story and very modern and sleek. Smooth white stucco with rounded corners topped with curved glass. There were little patches of flowers and greenery in front of the house, but nowhere in the front to really conceal herself.

She crept along the driveway looking for a good vantage point. She found a window that didn’t have an internal window covering and peered inside. The furnishings were as modern and sleek as the outside of the house. She could see handsome blonde doctor moving from room to room with a glass of something amber-coloured in his hand. He was reading what looked to be a letter as he wandered.

She watched him for a time. He sat down at his desk with his back to the window and pulled out a large book. He seemed to be copying something from it, but Phryne couldn’t make out what.

His head turned toward the front door and then he stood, moving to carefully hide what he was writing.  She watched from outside as he quickly schooled his features into a smile as a beautiful young brunette entered the room. He greeted the newcomer with a passionate kiss. _This must be Emily Flynn,_ thought Phryne.

Probably-Emily pushed away from him and spoke frantically. He looked at her as if trying to understand what she was saying, holding her by the shoulders as she spoke and nodding along with her story. He then turned to the desk and picked up the telephone. Phryne pressed closer, trying to hear what he was saying on the telephone. He reached for something in the desk and then disappeared into the other room, leaving Emily Flynn alone in the room.

Phryne tried to peek around the edge to see where he was going, but lost sight of him.

She had a sudden thought that she should warn Emily of the danger of this man, so she went to the side door and tried to open it. Locked, of course. She fished her lock pick out of her brassiere. She made quick work of the easy lock and slipped inside the house. She stealthily made her way toward the room in which she could see Probably-Emily waiting.

Probably-Emily was peering out the windows into the darkness when Phryne got to the doorway. Dr. Gilbert was still missing from the room.

“ _Emily!_ ” Phryne whispered loudly, causing the young woman to whip around at her.

“Who are you?!” The young woman demanded, she turned to shout for Dr. Gilbert.

“ _Wait, Emily! You’re in great danger! Dr. Gilbert is a monster!_ ” she hissed at the terrified woman in front of her.

“Hands where I can see them!” a man’s voice ordered from behind her.

Phryne turned to see her prime suspect Dr. Brian Gilbert standing at the end of the hallway with a revolver pointed at her.

She debated whether she should try to draw her own gun, but thought better of it. Surely, Dr. Gilbert wouldn’t try anything here in his own home. She raised her arms in surrender.

“Miss Fisher?” he said confused, “What the hell are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That poor rabbit" refers to the new at the time [Rabbit Test](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rabbit_test) or Friedman Test for pregnancy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stepping back in time to shortly after Phryne left Jack at the station. Jack's investigations are the next two chapters.

“Where have you been, Collins?” Jack looked up as his Senior Constable knocked on the door entering the office.

“I delivered the nebulizer to Dr. MacMillan as you asked, sir… and then she asked me to go back to the flat and find the medicine for the nebulizer,” he took out his note book, “uh-dren-uh-len clor-ride.”

Jack nodded at him.

“Dr. MacMillan told me when I delivered it that she had found,” he looked at his note book again, “Hi-dro-floor-ick acid in the nebulizer.”

“Very good, Collins,” Jack tapped his fingers on the desk, “have you had a chance to look into Rebecca Isaacs for me?”

“Ah… yes, sir. Rebecca Isaacs graduated at the top of her class in the nursing program two years ago, and started working at Royal Melbourne Hospital. She was dismissed with references six months ago, but I haven’t been able to determine why.” Hugh reported.

“Dismissed? She didn’t resign?” Jack asked for clarification.

“That’s what the file said, sir. I wasn’t able to find anyone who would talk about it, however.”

“What about family?” Jack asked.

Hugh flipped through his notes while sucking in his upper lip, “Let’s see… she doesn’t have any, sir. Orphaned… at…fourteen. Was in state care in a group home… but was bright enough to receive sponsorship to a nursing school.”

“Have you found any record of how her parents died?”

Hugh smiled briefly, “I thought you’d ask that, sir,” and then his eyes got sad again, “apparently, a house fire killed her parents and two sisters.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?” Jack barked at the intrusion.

Constable Blalock stuck his head in, “Inspector Robinson sir, you have a telephone call.”

Jack rolled his eyes and picked up the phone, “Jack Robinson here”

Hugh got up and left the office to let him have the conversation in private.

“Hello, darling.”

His hard expression and voice softened immediately, “Miss Fisher? I didn’t expect to hear from you until later.”

“Jack, I’m with Rebecca Isaacs. She’s received threatening notes and someone has broken into her locker at work and her room at the boarding house to deliver them. Can you send someone to the boarding house? I’ll check for prints, but I’m not optimistic.”

Something about Phryne sounded off, Jack thought. She was always excited on a case, but she was speaking… _faster?_ He shook his head. Perhaps he was imagining it.

“I… of course… do you need me to come?” Jack asked.

“No, no…” Phryne assured him, “I’ll do an initial search for prints and secure the scene, but then I want to keep Rebecca at home with us.”

Jack was starting to have some doubts about Rebecca Isaacs. It was quite possible that she was just an unfortunate girl who’d had a tragic life. He hadn’t met her yet, of course, so he didn’t really have a feel for her personally. But it seemed like a lot of tragedy following one person. Of course, the same could be said about his own Miss Fisher. The love of his life. She had terrible tragedy in her childhood, and death seemed to be stalking her. If everyone were as suspicious of her, where would she be? He really did owe it to her to at least hear her…

“Jack?”

“Right… not, um… yes, I suppose… that… makes… sense. How long will she be with us?” Jack asked.

“At least until we figure out this mess, Jack,” Phryne said, “We have plenty of room.”

“Of course, it’s not the room,” Jack still had his doubts after Hugh’s report, but Phryne was usually right, “It’s… a fine idea… I’m sure. I’ll send Blalock over to gather evidence. Where are you?”

“Wonderful! We’re at her boarding house near Barkly Gardens in Richmond… the Swan’s Nest?” Phryne reported.

“I know it. I’ll send Blalock… Phryne?” Jack swallowed in worry.  Something was nagging at him.

“Yes, Jack?” She chirped.

“Please be care… Just don’t do anything foolish,” he begged of her.

“I love you, too, Jack. I’ll see you this evening, darling.”

The line went dead as she hung up the telephone on her end.

“I love you, Phryne,” he said to the dead line.

“Yes sir… he’s just on the telephone... if you would like to wait a moment, sir,” Jack heard Hugh on the other side of his closed door trying to slow an oncoming intruder. He stood to prepare for what he suspected was coming through the door. As it opened a tall, square-jawed man with greying hair that still had hints of ginger strode through the door.

“Commissioner Starling. How can I be of service?” Jack stood with hands on his hips and a polite smile as he greeted the man.

“Robinson.” The man entered the room with his hat in his hand. Jack gestured for him to sit but he silently shook his head. “I’ve just gotten a call from Joe Florey at Royal Melbourne Hospital. He said you and your Miss Fisher paid him a visit today?”

“Uh… Yes, sir… we were following up on the Marjory Murdockson case. We’ve found evidence that her death was, in fact, a deliberate murder… and a fairly calculated one at that,” Jack offered.

“I thought we agreed that you would clear Miss Fisher’s involvement on cases with me?” Starling narrowed his eyes at Jack.

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir… I didn’t see that the cases were actually connected until I returned to the office and got the confirmation of deliberate murder. Miss Fisher was investigating another matter and…”

“And yet you interviewed subjects together,” Starling finished for him.

Jack pressed his lips together and closed his eyes in defeat, “Ah… yes, sir.”

“Look, Robinson, I understand that you two are a great team… I do. I need only look at your case history before your... leave of absence... when she was consulting with you to see that. Despite what my secretary and wife both think, I’m not an idiot.”

“I know that sir… I don’t think…” Jack tried to defend both himself and the commissioner. Starling was a good man. And in Jack's experience, a very smart man. He gave Jack his job back… the same precinct… the same title… the same office… and he didn’t have to. Jack appreciated the change in the world since returning to Melbourne. Things were tough all over. There weren’t any jobs for anyone. That he could walk back into his job relatively unscathed was a minor miracle. But Starling had conditions. One of those conditions was that he be notified first before Phryne Fisher was brought on the case. Commissioner Starling liked Miss Fisher. He respected her and thought she was a damn fine investigator. But her methods were not his methods, and in this different world, the methods had to be beyond reproach. Hers were not.

“I wasn’t finished, Robinson," Starling continued, "I know there are times that you will be crossing paths in your investigations before you can inform me... I'd prefer that not happen, of course, but I'm a pragmatist," he pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing, "But when I receive _complaints_ about her behavior as an assumed official member of the Victoria constabulary... that really takes the biscuit!" The older man's face had turned red.

Jack gaped at him. "Complaints? From Dr. Florey?"

Starling nodded, "And one of his top men, Dr. Gilbert – who is the nephew of a councilman. Tread carefully, Robinson."

Jack touched his fingers to his forehead trying to recall the whole of the encounter with both doctors, "What... uh... what were the complaints? Sir... if I may ask?"

Commissioner Starling turned the brim of his hat over in his hands, "To be honest, it didn't sound like your Miss Fisher. They said she was abrasive and... accusatory. They asked if we were looking to pin a murder on them."

"Well, we can now confirm it is murder," Jack said in Phryne's defense, "She may have been a little overzealous, but she was right about it being murder... she was right for us to investigate further."

Starling sighed, "Be that as it may, she can't go around accusing prominent doctors without evidence. Try to keep a tighter rein on her, Robinson."

Jack smirked slightly, "So, does that mean she gets to stay on the case?"

Starling put his hat back on his head and turned to leave as he walked out he merely said, "Tighter rein."

Jack bit his lower lip in thought for a moment.

"Blalock!" He bellowed.

"Sir?" The younger constable jumped up and came to the threshold of Jack's office.

Jack was writing something down on a sheet of paper. "Blalock, I need you to get to the Swan's Nest boarding house in Richmond, straight away," he handed him the slip of paper with the address, "Miss Fisher is there now securing the scene of a break-in. Finish collecting evidence. Take your lead from her. She's officially on the case now."

"Yes, sir," Blalock exited quickly.

Jack sat back in his chair and considered the case before him. Phryne said that Rebecca Isaacs had received threatening notes. Blalock would take those into evidence and he'd have a look at them when he returned. "Collins!"

Hugh appeared at Jack's door quickly, "Yes sir?"

"In the search of Marjory Murdockson's flat, were there any threatening notes found?" Jack asked?

Hugh pulled out his note book and started skimming through it, "Uh... Not that we recorded sir... what kind of threatening note?"

Jack sat silent for a moment, "I'm not entirely sure, Collins," he jumped up, grabbing his coat and hat, "Let's go, I want to have another look at Marjory's flat."

 

* * *

 

 

Marjory lived—or rather had lived—in Carlton, very close to Royal Melbourne in a tiny little flat above a cobbler's shop. There was, in theory, separation between the cobbler's establishment and the flat, but the whole place smelled of leather and boot polish.

The flat consisted of two rooms. One room was a small washroom with lavatory, toilet, and shower. The other was everything else. It had a small cooker, a single bed, a table, and a dresser.

It was very tidy. Marjory Murdockson had been a fastidious person. Everything was neat and orderly. Jack went to a stack of books near the bed and started leafing through them. There were nursing texts and a couple of romance novels. No threatening notes. In the drawer of the table next to the bed, he finally found something worthwhile. On the outside, it looked like another romance novel, but when he thumbed it open he found something worth reading. A diary. "Aha."

He pocketed the diary for later study. There really wasn't anything else here. It was a very spartan room. For good measure, Jack and Hugh looked under the mattress and pulled the drawers out of the dresser.  With very little room to maneuver and nothing else to find, they left the flat.

 

* * *

 

 

They were only a few blocks away from the Royal Melbourne Hospital. Jack wanted to have another look around there. It was a warm day, but there was a nice breeze.

"Collins, I'm going to walk Miss Murdockson's route. Bring the car and meet me at Royal Melbourne," Jack directed.

Hugh trotted off to the police motorcar and Jack strolled down the street toward Royal Melbourne. It was a working-class neighborhood. Two-story buildings with shops on the ground floor and flats above were tightly packed in with one-story bungalow houses, all an arm’s length from the street. Most of the shops were closed now. A few remained. The cobbler under Marjory's now vacant flat was still in business. There was a small grocer along the route. An apothecary closer to the hospital. Most of the stores seemed to have been closed within the last year. The crash had been heard and felt around the world.

There were several men along the way guarding the doorways of these closed businesses with their sleeping bodies. More and more of Melbourne was becoming like that. Even St. Kilda was not immune to the increasing specter of Depression.

Jack wondered if Marjory Murdockson wandered these streets alone. It seemed more sad than sinister in the brightness of day, but nurses keep odd hours. Would she have had an escort? If so, who? Who could have had access to the medicine to poison it? Was it done in her home or at her work? He really wanted to bounce these questions off of Phryne. He knew he was a damn good investigator himself, but as always, they were better together.

 

As he was nearing the hospital, Jack spotted Dr. Joseph Florey exiting the building. He picked up his pace to cut him off.

“Dr. Florey! Dr. Florey!” he called. The man stopped and turned at the sound of his voice. He waited while Jack trotted up to him, “Dr. Florey, thank you for waiting. Could I have just a moment?”

Dr. Florey looked around with annoyed huff, “Is that woman with you?”

Jack also looked around. Needlessly he knew, but he also knew that it didn’t hurt to check when it came to Miss Fisher. “Uh… No. No, she’s not. Look, Dr. Florey, I’d like to apologize if Miss Fisher or I caused any offense earlier…”

Dr. Florey narrowed his eyes at him, “Jim Starling talked to you, I take it.”

Jack stood with his hands on his hips and dropped his head, “Um, yes. Yes, he did, sir. But that’s not why I’m here. I am sorry if you felt Miss Fisher was too abrasive, but Marjory Murdockson was deliberately murdered.”

Dr. Florey said nothing just looked Jack in the eye for a moment trying to process the information. Finally, he raised his eyebrows and looked away, “I see.”

“I need to speak to her immediate supervisor and anyone else she worked with again.”

Dr. Florey nodded absently, “Yes, of course. Speak with whomever you need.”

Jack nodded, “One more thing if I may, sir. Earlier today, Miss Fisher asked you about Rebecca Isaacs,” Dr. Florey stiffened. “Why were you concerned about us asking about her?”

The head of Royal Melbourne Hospital, normally quite puffed up in his own importance, deflated slightly.

“Rebecca Isaacs was complicated.”

Jack waited for Dr. Florey to expand on this.

“Nothing was ever proven. We never had evidence… but her supervisor suspected she was mistreating her patients.”

Jack looked at Dr. Florey in disbelief, “If she was suspected of mistreating patients, why was she given references?”

Dr. Florey exhaled closing his eyes, “Because compelling evidence implicating another nurse with the same patients was found, and that nurse was dismissed and charged.”

“So, why was there suspicion on Miss Isaacs?” Jack pressed.

“The head sister still felt she was untrustworthy and begged me to find her posting away from here,” Dr. Florey shrugged, “She claimed Miss Isaacs unnerved her. I couldn’t lose my head sister, so…”

“So, you arranged to get Miss Isaacs out of the way?” Jack guessed.  Dr. Florey nodded.

Dr. Florey begged leave as he was late for a meeting across town and Jack thanked him for his time.

Jack was thinking over the question of Rebecca Isaacs when Hugh caught up to him. He was increasingly uncomfortable with the idea of her in his… their… Phryne’s house. He bristled internally at that line of thought. Phryne had declared that he should live there and the Collins family should take his bungalow. It seemed to make sense with the toddler-induced lack of sleep, but it wasn’t really discussed. It seemed like in the last eighteen months, there really hadn’t been a whole lot of “discussion”, lots of “declarations”.  For the most part, it didn’t bother him. He agreed with her on a great many things, and the little things didn’t seem worth fussing over. The house was starting to bother him a little because he no longer felt like he had a space of his own. Wardlow was her home, even though she welcomed him to it with open arms and heart. He didn’t feel like much more than an ornament there. He had no right to anything. His name wasn’t on any deed or lease. If she tired of him, he had nowhere to go. He let out a deep sigh. Jack was suddenly dimly aware that Hugh had been talking and blinked his way out of his melancholy.

“What was that, Collins?” Jack turned his attention to his Senior Constable.

“Nurse Fletcher, sir. The head sister? She is available if you want to talk to her,” Hugh repeated what he’d told his boss. They were walking toward the mother’s ward in search of the woman as they spoke.

“Right. Thank you, Collins,” he nodded absently at Hugh.

Hugh looked at his boss, mentor, and of late—friend—with raised eyebrow, “Pardon me for asking, but are you alright?”

Jack shook himself out of his internal thoughts, “Uh…yes, sorry, Collins… Hugh. It’s been… things have been a little off… lately.”

“The paradox of the modern woman, again?” Hugh smiled at him.

Jack laughed lightly, “I suppose so.”

Hugh took a deep breath and nodded with him, “I know what you mean, sir. Dottie has suddenly taken up the position that men should be forced to understand the unpleasantness of pregnancy and the pain of childbirth. It’s all she talks about at home.”

Jack gaped at him. “Dot? That doesn’t sound like her.”

“Pregnancy does strange things to a woman,” Hugh said sagely.

Jack absorbed this, “Does it? It’s still hard to imagine Dot being anything short of an angel.”

“Oh, she’s an angel. Sometimes she’s an avenging angel… but she’s an angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, please consider donating to the [ Miss Fisher Movie Kickstarter Campaign](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/468758721/miss-fisher-the-movie/description)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack continues to investigate the Marjory Murdockson matter, and increasingly finds disturbing information about Rebecca Isaacs... and Phryne.
> 
> Chapter 6 is my entry to the September Trope challenge Rumours and Gossip (Don't Believe the Rumours)

“We’re looking for the head sister, is she available?” Jack smiled charmingly at a short, plump nurse with ash blond hair in untidy finger waves who had her head down writing on a chart as they arrived. Her look of annoyance blossomed into a smile at the handsome men before her.

The nurse smiled shyly, “Uh… Nurse Fletcher is just finishing in the nursery, but she’ll be back in any moment.”

“Thank you, Nurse…” Jack led hoping to charm the girl into sharing some insights.

“Counts… Doris Counts…” she smiled at him, softening her eyes.

“Thank you, Nurse Counts,” he smiled a warm smile, “May I ask you a question, Nurse Counts?”

She nodded at him, “You can ask me whatever you want.”

“Did you know Marjory Murdockson? The nurse who died?” Jack’s eyes softened as he looked carefully at her. Her face went from smitten to shocked to shamed to sad in the space of a breath.

Nurse Counts cleared her throat, “I did. It was quite a shock what happened, what her just dropping dead like that.”

“Were you friends?” Jack saw something in that initial reaction that made him want to push the question.

“Not really. She mostly kept to herself,” the plump young woman replied, “I think ‘cause what happened,” she dropped to a whisper, “what with the trouble she was in.”

Jack tilted his head at her in inquiry, “Trouble? What trouble?”

“Well, I didn’t hear it from her…but I heard she got knocked up and got rid of it,” the nurse reported.

“When was this?” Jack asked.

“Maybe a year ago? Not really sure. She hasn’t been very chummy since it happened though,” Nurse Counts shared.

“Did you hear who got her in trouble?” Jack leaned his head in conspiratorially, trying to encourage the gossip. He wasn’t very good at it. This is another area where it paid to have Phryne with him, but he did alright. Especially when he’d managed to win over the subject as he had with Doris Counts.

“Well… not _officially_ mind you, but I heard it was… Dr. Gilbert.” She whispered conspiratorially.

An older woman, clearly the head sister appeared at the end of the hall. “Here comes Nurse Fletcher for you.” Nurse Counts straightened and spoke louder.

Jack and Hugh both turned to see a slender woman of about fifty walking down the hall. She had half-spectacles and not a single light-brown hair out of place.

“Nurse Fletcher, I’m Detective Inspector Jack Robinson and this is Senior Constable Hugh Collins, we’d like to ask you a few more questions about Marjory Murdockson if we may.”

“Of course, Detective Inspector, come into my office,” Nurse Fletcher led the men into a tiny office that was as messy as Nurse Fletcher was precise.

“What is it you needed to know about Nurse Murdockson?” Nurse Fletcher asked as she closed the door.

“We’ve heard rumours that she was romantically linked with one of the doctors at the hospital, and that she may have gotten into trouble?” Jack spoke while Hugh carefully documented the conversation.

Nurse Fletcher exterior calm shattered immediately as she let out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, those ninnies! I swear they’re like a bunch of clucking hens around here.”

“So… Those rumours are untrue?” Jack raised his eyebrows at the woman, “Are… are you sure?”

Nurse Fletcher took a deep breath and looked at Jack very seriously.

“Marjory came to me shortly after the rumours started… in tears… a complete mess,” the woman shared, “She told me she’d gone out to dinner with Dr. Gilbert and had a nice time, but that she wasn’t interested in seeing him further. Oh… he still tried flirting with her for a while until a new nurse caught his eye. She told me she was relieved because he finally had someone else to bother and wasn’t bothering her all the time, but that’s when the rumours started flying around the hospital that she was a loose woman… that she’d gotten into trouble and,” her hands flew up in frustration, “well, you heard. I don’t believe it for a second. But everyone else did.”

 Nurse Fletcher moved over to the file cabinet and opened the drawer, “I never figured out for certain exactly who started the rumours… but I have my suspicions. I think it’s the same girl that caught Dr. Gilbert’s eye next. I never trusted her.”

Jack gave it a beat before asking, “Who was that, Nurse Fletcher?”

Nurse Fletcher pulled a file from the cabinet and handed it to Jack, “Rebecca Isaacs. I don’t have any solid proof… but I think she was mistreating patients and I think she started the rumours about Marjory. I also think she manipulated things to make Nurse Tyndale look guilty of the crimes for which she is now imprisoned… but had I any evidence at all…” there were cracks in Nurse Fletcher’s flawless veneer. The more she talked about Rebecca Isaacs the more they started to show. Her eyes were widening and Jack noted the more she talked about Rebecca the less she blinked.

Jack flipped through the file. It seemed to contain stacks of handwritten ‘incident reports’.

“Yes, thank you, Nurse Fletcher,” he smiled softly at her, “I’m sure this will be very helpful.”

Nurse Fletcher looked at him for a moment and then something seemed to alert her that she was cracking and she pulled herself back together, “Thank you, Detective Inspector Robinson,” she stared ahead at the wall, trying to calm her mind. His placid semi-acceptance was all-too-familiar and stank of dismissal to her. _You’re ranting again, Geraldine_ she told herself internally.

Jack and Hugh turned to leave.

“Detective Inspector?” Nurse Fletcher stopped him with her voice as he opened the door.

“Yes, Nurse Fletcher?” Jack faced her.

She took a deep breath, “Don’t trust her.”

“Did Marjory? Were Marjory and Rebecca ever friends?” Jack asked.

Nurse Fletcher nodded, “Marjory wouldn’t believe me. She never heard Rebecca say anything about her… so she was one of the few people left that she trusted. And when Dr. Gilbert dumped Rebecca, too. It gave them something in common.”

“Were there ever any similar rumours about Rebecca?” Jack asked.

Nurse Fletcher nodded, “Yes, but I’m not sure where they came from.”

“What were the rumours?” Jack asked.

“That Dr. Gilbert was trying to claim her… that she’d fallen prey to his charms… but I never saw anything between them. It didn’t look to me like he even knew she existed.”

“They never spoke?” he pressed.

She shrugged, “They did, but it never struck me as anything other than professional. If they were having any kind of relationship, it was a cold one.”

Jack thought for a moment, “Then what would be feeding the rumours?” He knew all too well from his own relationship that the rumour-mill could sense the heat of romance long before the fire was even lit.

“I don’t know. It never made any sense to me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jack and Hugh headed back to City South feeling much less at ease than they’d left.

“Collins, dig up as much as you can on Rebecca Isaac’s past. I want to know everything there is to know about her family, her parents, the fire… why she ended up in welfare… if there is any other family.”

Hugh agreed. When they got to City South, Jack jumped out and Hugh steered the motorcar toward the Victoria State archives.

Constable Blalock was waiting for Jack when he walked into the lobby.

“Oh, Sir… I have the evidence from the Rebecca Isaacs break-in.”

“Very good, Blalock. My office.” Jack directed and kept walking with the constable in-tow.

Jack sat heavily at his desk and took the notes from Constable Blalock.

“Have you compared this to any samples from any of the suspects?” Jack asked.

“Yes, sir. I couldn’t make a definitive match to any suspect, but it looks like it’s closest to Dr. Gilbert,” the constable reported, “It’s very close, but… something seems strange about it.”

Jack twitched his cheek in thought, “That could be a forgery. Bring me the samples.” Blalock turned to leave, “Ah… first. What else?”

“Right. The boarding house is easy enough to break into, sir. There’s a fire stair at the back, and the window is kept open. It did appear that Miss Isaacs’s lock had been tampered with.”

“Was anything stolen that she noticed?” Jack asked.

“She reported that she was missing a photograph of Dr. Brian Gilbert and herself which had been removed from a dresser drawer.”

“Thank you, Blalock. Bring me those samples.” Blalock nodded and left him alone. The problem with this case was that _everyone_ was behaving oddly. There were too many things that didn’t make sense on the surface. He was feeling more and more suspicious of the mysterious Rebecca Isaacs. Nothing about her story seemed to add up. She seemed like a victim, but there was something decidedly sinister about her as well. He really wanted to trust Phryne’s judgment. He was feeling wrong-footed with this case and uneasy about so many things.

He really needed to talk to Phryne. She should be back at Wardlow by now. He picked up the phone.

“Fisher residence,” Mr. Butler answered. _And therein lies part of the problem,_ a brief, bitter thought floated through his head.

“Mr. Butler, Jack Robinson here. Is she in?”

“Oh, no Inspector. No, she left some time ago. Shortly after delivering Miss Isaacs and her accoutrements.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Jack asked.

“I believe Dorothy mentioned that Dr. MacMillan asked her to stop by, and she instructed me not to hold dinner. Would you care for me to hold dinner for you, sir?”

It had been six months, but Jack still wasn’t quite used to having household staff, “Uh… no, thank you, Mr. Butler… I’ll fend for myself.”

“It’s really no trouble, sir.” Mr. Butler could tell fending for himself was not an option Jack particularly favored.

After a thoughtful pause, “Very well, yes… please. That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Butler.”

“My pleasure, Inspector.”

He felt slightly hurt that Phryne hadn’t mentioned that she was going to talk to Mac, but maybe she’d tried when he was out. He picked up the telephone again and rang the morgue.

“City Morgue, Dr. MacMillan speaking,” the answer came.

“Mac, it’s Jack.”

“I was just about to ring you,” she replied. In the eight months it had taken to get things squared away and sorted for Jack to go after Phryne, Jack and Mac had become… well, they’d become buddies. Usually buddies that drank too much whisky and waxed maudlin… but buddies. Their relationship since the return had been less close. Mac was Phryne’s friend first, Jack reasoned.

“Oh… alright. Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. What is going on with Phryne?” she asked.

“What? What do you mean?” he was suddenly concerned.

“She just left here. I think there’s something very wrong.”

Jack’s heart started to race, “Is she ill? What happened?”

“Have you noticed her acting strangely lately? I mean… strange for her?”

“I… don’t… Mac, please tell me what this is about.” Jack pleaded with her.

She paused and he could hear her clucking her tongue. “She made me promise not to say anything… She showed up here and she wasn’t acting like herself. I’m running some tests.”

“Tests? What kind of tests?” Jack was getting very worried now.

“Jack, I’m… Look, I’m sorry. You aren’t next of kin or someone I can talk to about this. I just need to know if _you_ noticed anything.”

Jack ran through the past couple of days in his mind, she had been asleep and groggy yesterday. Napped the whole afternoon until after dark and then fell asleep with no trouble after they’d made love. Sleeping that much, especially in the afternoon and evening, was very unusual for her. And then there was the near-manic attack of Dr. Gilbert. Bad enough that the commissioner had come to talk to him about it? He’d seen her passionate about cases before… but the level of vitriol seemed ridiculous. And this obsession with protecting Rebecca seemed a little extreme. She was normally much more questioning than this. As if she projected a bit too much of her own history on the blank canvas of Rebecca, and that projection was blinding her to the flaws in Rebecca’s story. And the rapid talking on the phone…

Still. He had to trust her. Talking about her behind her back to her oldest friend felt… wrong.

“I… don’t think I have,” he lied.

“Jack. I can’t talk to you about it, but she can. You need to make her talk to you.” Mac pleaded with him.

Jack said nothing for a minute as he tried to process the new information that something was wrong with the woman he loved. Some ill-defined thing that he had no right to know about because he had an ill-defined place in her life. “Did she say where she was going?” his voice sounded raspy and emotional to his own ears.

“No. She didn’t. Jack,” Mac paused. He could tell she was trying to find the right words, “Jack… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to Phryne. And she’s the best thing that’s happened to you. I don’t want to see you two hurt… so you need to talk to each other. Sooner rather than later.”

“Uh… thanks, Mac,” Jack replied, “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Jack sat with his elbows on his desk, head in his hands. Something was clearly wrong. But what? And how was he supposed to bring this up to her?

He pulled out Marjory Murdockson’s diary and started leafing through it, hoping to find some answers within.

He found an entry in late 1929 that seemed to be the start of her dealings with Dr. Brian Gilbert. She wrote about him a few times, starting with his notice, her flattery at that notice and that she found him attractive, but that, “Diary, he seems so insincere in his attentions.”

He hadn’t been at it very long, just getting to “the dinner date”, when the phone rang. Blalock still had the front desk. Hugh hadn’t returned from the archives yet.

Jack waited before diving back into the diary. If he knew Constable Blalock, he’d be knocking on the door any secon…

“Come in,” Jack answered in response to the knock.

Blalock entered, “Sir, there’s a call of an intruder at 25 Byron Street in Elwood… a Dr. Brian Gilbert.”

Jack looked up stunned, “What?”

He jumped up grabbing his jacket and hat as he stalked out the door. “Come on, Blalock.”

 

* * *

 

 

Byron Street was normally about a 10-minute drive from City South. 5 minutes after pulling away from the station they were jumping out of the car and pounding on the door of the sleek, white modern home.

A terrified looking young brunette woman answered the door.

“Thank you for coming so quickly… my fiancé has the intruder pinned down. Please hurry,” she said with a shaky voice. Jack and his constable followed the woman through the house to an office. As he scanned the room he first saw the back of Dr. Gilbert, with his arm raised to the level of his waist. Jack couldn’t see past him until he entered the room completely.

As he realized who the intruder was, his heart sank.

“Jack!”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack has discovered that Phryne has once again gone behind his back and now he's faced with arresting her for harassing a suspect and breaking into the suspect's home.

“Jack!”

His mind was racing. Phryne was being held at gunpoint by the person who had called in the report of an intruder. A person both Phryne and Jack suspected of murder.

“Phryne? What… What are you doing here?” Jack’s heart was pounding in his ears.

The brunette woman who had answered the door took up her post next to Dr. Gilbert. He guessed that she must be Emily Flynn.

“Inspector Robinson, wasn’t it?” Dr. Gilbert said. He was clearly agitated, “Miss Fisher broke into my home and has accused me most unfairly. I’d like you to arrest her.”

Phryne huffed loudly, “He was writing another threatening note! I saw him!” Jack was seriously alarmed. She was not herself. Her eyes looked wild, unfocused, and bloodshot. Her normally porcelain skin was red and splotchy. Beads of sweat were forming at her brow. “It’s there… in the desk… he hid it.”

Dr. Gilbert looked confused, “How did you…?” he pointlessly looked through the uncovered window toward the night-darkened driveway, “Were you spying on me?”

Jack turned to Dr. Gilbert, trying to assess what he was hiding.

Phryne started to move and Dr. Gilbert refocused the gun on her, “I saw him writing and then he hid something in a book.”

Jack ran his hand over his face, “Dr. Gilbert, I assure you that Miss Fisher is not a physical threat. Could you put the gun away? Please?” Dr. Gilbert acquiesced.  “Thank you, sir. Miss Fisher, please be silent,” he turned back to Dr. Gilbert, “Is she correct? Were you writing something? Did you hide it?”

Dr. Gilbert glanced nervously at Emily Flynn, “Well… yes, actually, I was trying to write my wedding vows,” he moved to the desk, set the gun down, and picked up a book with _The_ _Collected Works of Lord Byron_ emblazoned on the spine. He pulled out a folded sheet of paper, handing it to Jack.

Jack studied it for a moment, and then handed it back to Dr. Gilbert, “Constable Blalock. Please escort Miss Fisher outside. I’d like to have a word with Dr. Gilbert.”

“But Jack!! Byron! It fits… it all…” she was getting even redder faced and losing what was left of her composure. It wasn’t much.

“Outside! Now!” Jack barked in anger.

The young constable nervously approached Phryne and led her out of the room, “Come along, Miss Fisher. Nice and steady.”

Phryne let out a frustrated grunt.

Jack waited until he heard the front door close.

He took a deep breath, “Dr. Gilbert, I cannot apologize enough for Miss Fisher’s behaviour today. I beg you to reconsider pressing charges. She’s… she’s unwell… and I’ll be contacting her physician as soon as we leave.”

“I could see that there’s something going on tonight… but Inspector Robinson, this cannot keep happening. And… in my home? Threatening my fiancée?” Dr. Gilbert, Jack could tell, was trying to be understanding.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“I need your word that she won’t be bothering me or Emily again, Inspector,” Dr. Gilbert was calming some from his excitement, “I will see you removed from your position if you break that word… I have friends in powerful places… that isn’t an empty threat.”

Jack nodded at him solemnly, “I understand. You have my word. I’ll remove her from the case and make sure she doesn’t bother you. Again, I’m sorry.”

“Yes… well… see that she doesn’t.”

“Thank you, Dr. Gilbert.” Jack left the couple and headed out into the night to collect his… well what was she? His Phryne? Was she though? And could he even hope to keep that promise to keep her away? Trying to stop Phryne on a mission was like trying to stop the tide with your hands.

Phryne and Constable Blalock were standing next to the police vehicle. Or rather, Constable Blalock was standing next to it and Phryne pacing back and forth.

“Blalock, take the police motorcar back to the station, please. I’ll… I’ll take Miss Fisher home.” Jack sounded exhausted to his own ears. Exhausted by what the day had already served up, and exhausted by what was to come.

“Yes, sir.” The young constable got behind the wheel and gladly removed himself from the building tension.

“Where is the Hispano?” Jack’s voice was quiet and deceptively calm. Phryne saw rage behind his eyes—and it was unnerving to her.

Wordlessly, she pointed down the street. He waved his arm toward the vehicle and she stomped off in front of him.

“You’d better let me drive,” Jack said as they reached the Hispano. She looked for a moment as if she were about to protest, but a warning look from Jack—a look of anger, hurt, and disappointment that was harsher than she ever remembered seeing… even after Gertie Haynes—convinced her otherwise.

She watched him as he steered the car the short distance to Wardlow. He wouldn’t look at her. He kept his eyes on the road. Knuckles white on the steering wheel. His face was stone.

Phryne’s mind was jumping from one thought to another. Her emotions were fluctuating between anger and anguish. _Dr. Gilbert was guilty… and for Jack to just discount me like that… and bark… as if I were a child the way Father used to do when he was angry but Jack was different he wasn’t raging he was seething… then what was going on with Emily? Why was she so afraid of me and not of Brian Gilbert? It didn’t make any sense… sense…_ sensing the anger a chill ran through her and she started shaking. _Shaking… shaking… can’t shake the feeling that we’re missing something terribly important… why am I so thirsty? Really need something to drink…_ she started looking around for something knowing it was foolish _and foolish and… why can’t I remember what I can’t remember?_

“Phryne?” Jack’s voice still had an edge of anger, but there was a thick layer of worry.

She blinked at him, “I… I’m fine Jack.”

She realized that they were parked just outside her garage at Wardlow, but she had no real memory of how she arrived.

“You aren’t fine,” he assessed, “I’m going to call Mac.” He reached out to feel her forehead. As flushed as she was, as odd as she was acting, he suspected a fever.

She slapped his hand away, “I said I’m fine!”

She exited the car and stormed into the house through the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind her.

Jack exhaled violently, grabbing and shaking the steering wheel in frustration. “Damnit.”

A moment later he was on her heels, following her into the house.

“Phryne!” Jack followed her through the house to the parlor. She was pouring herself a generous glass of whisky as he entered, “Phryne… you are not fine. I… I don’t know what’s going on with you… but I’m going to call Mac.”

“I don’t need Mac!” she spat, “I need you to trust me! Gilbert is guilty and you did nothing! How could you do nothing!?”

Jack rubbed his fingers over his eyebrows, trying to pinch away the tension headache that had formed, “Phryne… it’s all I could do to keep Gilbert from pressing charges. You broke into his house! You threatened him! I… I thought I expressly said not to harass him?”

“He’s guilty!”

“There is _NO_ evidence of that. In fact…” he said loudly, and then realized the subject he was about to bring up could be listening in, so he dropped his voice, “In fact,” he glanced toward the upstairs as he practically whispered, “there is mounting evidence that your Miss Isaacs isn’t what she seems.”

Phryne gaped at him, “What?! That’s ridiculous!”

“Is it?” he narrowed his eyes at her, “You’re off your game, Miss Fisher. It’s not like you to discount evidence because it doesn’t meet your vision of the case.”

“I’m off my… well… fine Jack. Where’s your evidence?” She crossed her arms at him, “And if you’re so certain, why don’t you arrest her? And what about the threatening note he was writing… and in the Byron!”

Jack realized the files Nurse Fletcher had given him were at City South, and likely so was anything having to do with Rebecca Isaac’s family.

Jack pressed his lips together in frustration, “I don’t… “ he started with raised voice, and then adjusted again, “I don’t have it here with me… and I don’t have enough to make an arrest of anyone yet, but Rebecca Isaacs was let go from Royal Melbourne because she was suspected of mistreating patients, though there was no proof. And the note… your compelling note? Was as he said… it was his wedding vows!”

“That doesn’t prove anything!” she said in exasperation.

“I know it doesn’t… but… Phryne, why do you trust her so much?”

“Why don’t you trust me at all, Jack?” She cried.

He blinked at her stunned, “How… how can think I don’t trust you?”

Phryne threw her arms up in frustration, “You never talk to me about anything! You keep everything inside and I never know where I stand on anything. We said we were going to be honest with each other… but you never tell me how you feel! You just go along and I have to make all the decisions,” some small part of her was screaming in her mind that this wasn’t the time or emotional state to have this conversation. But it didn’t matter, she was in it now.  “You don’t even care!”

Jack’s nostrils flared in anger, “I don’t care? I don’t… Jesus, Phryne… when am I ever given an actual choice? You do what you want to do… regardless of the consequences… and I have to either suck it up or get out. You’ve made that clear from the start.”

“We’re supposed to be partners!” she countered, “If you won’t talk to me, how am I supposed to know whether you’re getting hurt or not? You can’t expect me to read your mind!”

“Would it matter? If I told you I don’t want you to do something you want to do?” he volleyed back, “Would you even listen? That would be new.”

“You knew who I was when we got into this,” she waved her hand between them. “This…”

“This what, Phryne? What are we?” he pled.

She pulled back, “We’re partners… or supposed to be.”

“What does that mean to you? I’m not your husband… you’ve been very clear that you don’t want that.” He sneered.

“You don’t want to get married either! Don’t lay that on me!” she was livid. “We agreed!”

“We…” he ran his hand over his mouth as if trying to stop a flow of things he couldn’t take back, “We don’t… _agree._ You dictate and I follow.”

She gaped at him as if he’d struck her, “That isn’t fair! You always agree… what happened to the honesty we promised?”

“When have I ever had a chance to disagree? It’s your life… I can’t and don’t want to control you… it’s your house… I have no claim. Tell me, Phryne. Tell me what power I have to disagree with you, hm?”

“If you’re so unhappy with it, why don’t you just leave!” her heart was breaking, but all she could feel right now was rage. She hated Jack Robinson for making her feel like this. She hated him for making her the monster.

He ran his hand over his brow and then through his hair, “Because I’m not unhappy! I love you… and I love our life together… but I really don’t know where I fit. Were you even going to tell me that you went to see Mac today?”

She looked at him in horror, “She told you! She promised she wasn’t going to tell you! Damnit, Mac!”

“Told me what?” Jack narrowed his gaze.

“She lied to me! She said she wasn’t on the telephone with you!” Phryne started pacing, “It’s nothing. It’s not true. I’m not pregn... it’s not possible.”

“Pregnant?” he glared at her, “Don’t you think that’s something you should discuss with your ‘partner’?”

“I’m not!” she insisted, “Mac is only running the test!”

Jack collapsed into the chair nearest him. Hugh did say that pregnancy did crazy things to Dot’s personality. But pregnant? It didn’t feel real to him. They’d discussed children and both of them decided _(she decided for both of them, really)_ that it wasn’t a great choice for them. They were so careful with protection. He’d long ago given up any idea of being a father—and as he honestly assessed his thoughts about it—the idea of a baby was… not entirely appealing at his age. Part of him would love to have a child with Phryne. A permanent symbol of their love. _But, children aren’t symbols_ … another part of his mind weighed in… _they are whole individuals who don’t always do what you expect them to do._

 The idea of a child for the sake of a legacy always grated on him. The part that was bothering him the most was that she kept it from him. Whatever was decided, should be—more than any of the other things that were bothering him—a joint decision. But once again, she kept it from him for her own purposes. Things hadn’t changed as much as he’d hoped.

“And you weren’t going to tell me.” It wasn’t a question. The fight had fled him. He was just numb.

Phryne was still aggitated, “There wasn’t anything to tell. It’s just a test.”

“Was it just that? You’ve been acting…” this was exhausting… he was exhausted, “strange,”

“I’m acting strange? That’s rich. You say nothing at all about how you feel about anything and now you unload all of this and make me into a monster!” she waived her hand dismissively, “Mac shouldn’t have told you.”

“She didn’t. She can’t,” he said wearily, “Because I’m nobody important, I don’t get to know any of these things. The only reason I know anything at all is because she was worried about you, too.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with me,” she sneered. The sweat dampened hair, blotchy skin, and bloodshot eyes belied that claim.

“Let’s call Mac and have her come verify that,” he bit back, standing and moving toward the telephone, “and I can’t let you near this case again. Not after tonight.”

“Jack!” the anger that was subsiding flared into life again, “You can’t do that! I need to investigate this!”

“You had your chance. I told you not to harass Gilbert and then you promptly turned around and you broke into his house.”

The blotches grew together as she got angrier. He couldn’t do this to her. How _dare_ he order her like that! She couldn’t bear to look at him.

“Get out!” she yelled at him pointing at the door.

“Phry..” he started to protest.

“OUT!” She stomped her foot.

He looked like he was going to fight, but turned on his heel and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him.

Phryne let out a primal groan of frustration. Before collapsing on the floor with her head in her hands. She didn’t really want Jack to go… she just couldn’t take this fight anymore. _Why did he have to fight her? Wait… didn’t I want him to push back? If this was pushing back, I don’t like it._

“Miss Fisher?” Phryne’s head shot up at the timid sound of Rebecca’s voice.

“Rebecca? I’m… I’m sorry if we disturbed you.” She noted that the young woman was carrying a tray with both hands.

“I’ve made you some herbal tea… and put out a few of Mr. Butler’s sandwiches,” the younger woman lifted the tray in offer.

She really wanted something stronger, but she reasoned some tea might help calm her nerves. She pulled herself off the floor and onto the chaise.

“Thank you, Rebecca. That would be lovely.”

The nurse brought the tray into the parlor and set it on the low table in front of Phryne. She poured her a cup of tea and settled in the chair opposite the detective.

“I… I overheard some of… with your… um,” she struggled to find the word, “partner?” the concept seemed alien to the young woman, “I didn’t mean to listen… I’m sorry if I’m causing…”

“It’s not you, Rebecca,” Phryne took a sip, “this has been coming.”

Rebecca picked up a sandwich, nibbling at a corner. “What did he mean you harassed Bri… Dr. Gilbert?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Phryne smiled wanly at the girl.

“But he said… “

“I’m still going to keep you safe, Rebecca,” Phryne swore, “I promise you. We’ll get to the bottom of this. Inspector Robinson will… he’ll come around.”

Phryne looked longingly at the front door, willing Jack to come back through it.

 

* * *

 

 

Jack slammed the door behind him and stalked down the path toward the street. He knew he should stay and finish this argument, but he just… needed some space to think.   _Pregnant? She couldn’t be. It had to be something else. But what?_ He thought he remembered seeing something in the Marjory Murdockson diary that nagged at him… something she wrote about Nurse Fletcher that he’d skimmed over but was now screaming at him to pay attention. He couldn’t go back to Wardlow until he calmed down. _At this point_ , he thought bitterly, _I’m not sure I can go back to Wardlow at all_.

Quicker than he expected, he found himself in front of City South.

The first thing he did was call Mac. He knew it was late enough that she’d have left the morgue. He knew she was probably at home, so he tried her there first. It had been over a year since they were part of each other’s routine, but Mac kept her routines steady.

“Elizabeth McMillan,” she answered.

“Mac, it’s Jack,” he replied, “Please go to Wardlow and check out Phryne. You’re right. Something is wrong.”

“Oh,” she responded, “So, you spoke to her? Wait, did you say ‘go to’? Where are you?”

“City South,” he said tightly, “She threw me out.”

“Jack.”

“Just… just make sure she’s alright,” he said, “I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll head over there immediately,” she promised, “Jack?”

“Yes?” his voice sounded raw to his own ears.

“This will pass,” Mac tried to comfort him, “She loves you.”

He exhaled, “I… I know. Please, just… help her.”

He rang off. Putting his head in his hands, he tried collecting what he could of his thoughts. He didn’t trust Rebecca Isaacs at all, and now he’d left the woman he loved with her alone. Mr. Butler was there, of course, and Mac was on the way. But he couldn’t help but feel as if he’d abandoned her. Let her down. Why did he have to say what he said?

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out his whisky and a glass. He poured himself a generous amount before reaching for the diary. In the proper reading of it, he’d only managed to make it to Marjory’s one dinner date with Gilbert, but in leafing through it earlier something had caught at his subconscious. What was it? In the parts of the diary he’d already read, Nurse Fletcher was stern, but fair and always cool, calm, and collected. It wasn’t that. He thumbed through, eyes sweeping the pages as he looked only for the words that triggered his thought.  There!

_Nurse Fletcher has been kind, but I worry about her. She seems ill lately. I tried to convince her to talk to one of the doctors, but she assured me she was well. “Just an ache in the head,” she said._

And then a few days later:

_I’m more concerned about Nurse Fletcher. She seems to be forgetting things, and she is always flushed. I asked Becky about it, but she said she didn’t notice a change. Nurse Fletcher has warned me to stay away from Becky, but who else am I going to speak to? Save Nurse Fletcher and Becky, this whole hospital treats me like a pariah. Diary, I did nothing wrong._

Jack pulled his attention away from the words on the page. Nurse Fletcher had physical symptoms that sounded all too familiar.  

By the time he saw the bottom of his whisky glass for the second time, he had worked out that Nurse Fletcher seemed to get sicker and sicker until Rebecca Isaacs was transferred away from Royal Melbourne. At that point, she gradually recovered.

It was late. He wasn’t really sure where to go. He had no home of his own. There was barely enough room for the Collins family at the house he still technically owned. He supposed he could stay here at the station, but that was not at all appealing. He’d been cast out of Wardlow. He felt lost in a way he hadn’t since…

He picked up the telephone and dialed a once familiar extension. Surprisingly, it was the voice he had hoped to hear answering the telephone.

“It’s me. I’m sorry to bother you…” he said on his end of the line, “Is it too late?”

“Jack! Of course not!” the comfortingly familiar voice said over the line, “It’s… nice to hear your voice,”

“I… I need a place to stay tonight,” he said nervously. This was probably a terrible idea, but he didn’t have many other options. “I hate to ask, but…”

“Nonsense, Jack. There’s plenty of room,” she paused, “Have you eaten? You usually forget.”

“I haven’t, actually,” he realized aloud.

“Come over, Jack,” she said after a short pause, “We’ll talk about it. Whatever it is.”

He smiled a sad smile that he knew she’d be able to hear if not see, “Thank you, Rosie.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosie squeezed his hand, “I love you, Jack. I’ll always love you..."
> 
> Jack is comforted. Mac investigates.

“So, what happened?” Rosie was sitting across from Jack in her mother’s kitchen as he ate some of her reheated pumpkin soup. It had been years since he had such a treat. He absently wondered if Rosie might be willing to give Mr. Butler the recipe—an absent thought that turned into a sharp pain. _It might not matter_ , he thought sadly as he swallowed his favorite soup.

He cleared his throat, “I’m not even sure,” he confessed, “I think there’s something wrong with Phry… with Miss Fisher.”  He had trouble meeting her eyes.

“Phryne will do, Jack,” she said gently with just a hint of sadness, “I know you are living together.”  She smiled lightly at him as the concern creased his brow. “It’s fine, Jack. I’m happy for you both.”

“I shouldn’t have come,” he said simply.

“I’d rather you come to me than sleep in the station… again,” she smiled sadly, “Besides, we’re friends. Aren’t we, Jack? After you were there for me through the… well… with Father and…”

“Of course, we’re friends, Rosie,” he said gently. It had been a difficult time with both her father’s trial and conviction, to say nothing of Sidney Fletcher’s. She mostly avoided anything to do with Sidney. But she had to be there for her mother, and of course, for George. Ellen Sanderson had been away in Adelaide during the Lavinia ugliness, but she felt the full weight of George’s rightful arrest.

Being there for Rosie was part of the reason for his delay in going after Phryne. Of course, he was her friend.

“You were there for me,” she said firmly, “I’m here for you. It’s in the ex-spouse rules and regulations.”

He chuckled, “Is it?”

“Probably not,” she smiled in return, “But it should be.”

He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement but stared blankly at the soup. She studied him as he collected his thoughts.

“Miss Fi…Phryne,” he corrected himself, “thinks that I don’t trust her. And… maybe she’s right.” He set down his spoon and pinched his brow.

“Nonsense,” Rosie weighed in, “As much as it pained me to see at first, you two are perfect together. And I’ve never seen you trust anyone more.”

“Perhaps that’s still not enough,” he said gloomily.

She watched him for a minute more. The fight that had come back to him when she first saw him working with Phryne Fisher seemed to down for the count.

“What are the charges against you?” she asked.

He looked up at the question and smiled. He still felt this was dangerous ground, but it felt nice to talk to someone who understood him as well as Rosie. “Well, uh… keeping things from her. Not sharing how I feel. Removing her from an investigation without cause.”

Rosie put her hands on the kitchen table and pushed herself back, smirking at him with a side glare and laughed shaking her head.

“It’s not funny, Rosie.”

She continued to laugh, “I don’t know about the last charge, but I can testify for the prosecution that the first two are serial offenses.”

He grimaced at her as she continued to laugh. “This isn’t really helping, Rosie,” he whined. She couldn’t stop giggling. It was infectious. A smile started to crack through his dour veneer.

“I’m sorry, Jack… but she’s not wrong,” she stilled her laughter down to a fond smile.

“How did you endure me?” his face showed a smile, but Rosie could see the sadness in his eyes.

She sighed and reached her hand across the table to cover his, “Stop,” she ordered softly, “you carry the world. You were—and still are—a good, kind, wonderful man. Your serial offense of guarded emotions was a factor in us drifting apart, but it wasn’t everything.”

The look he gave her was one of deep regret, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Rosie squeezed his hand, “I love you, Jack. I’ll always love you. But I stopped being in love with you a long time ago. Who we were and who we are now are so very different. I’m happy we had the time together that we did, but we would have been miserable if we stayed together.”

He gave her a close-lipped smile. He felt the same way. He’d always love Rosie, but knowing now what truly falling in love with someone felt like—he’d have to admit that his love for her was never as deep as the love he felt for Phryne now. Rosie was beautiful and intelligent, but his love for her always was tinged with duty before desire.

“I’ve met someone, Jack.”

Her tone was guardedly optimistic. He knew from other conversations that she wasn’t really looking for a new love. Sidney had hurt her badly with his betrayal.

“That’s wonderful, Rosie,” he said genuinely happy for this woman he used to share ( _or failed to share,_ he reminded himself) his life with.

“Lyle is a little less taciturn than you,” she smiled, “but he’s good and honorable man. More similar to you than to Sidney.”

“Hopefully with a bit more ambition,” he returned with a wink.

She rolled her eyes, “you have plenty of ambition. It just didn’t match mine.”

He sighed heavily, pulling his hand away from hers and casting his eyes down, “I’m not sure it matches anyone’s.”

“She loves you,” Rosie said after a long moment of studying his sadness, “Really loves you for you… But, are you really being you right now? You seem to have given up, and that’s not the Jack she fell in love with.”

Jack glanced back at Rosie. He cleared his throat as he looked away again, “Yes… well.  Thank you… for… thank you for everything, Rosie.”

She could tell he’d heard her, but it was time to let it drop before he threw the walls into place again.

“It’s late,” she gestured to the bowl, “Are you finished?”

He nodded slightly and she stood, picked up the bowl and then took it to the sink.

“Get some rest, Jack,” she squeezed his shoulder as she passed him leaving the room.

He wasn’t completely convinced, but Rosie’s words were a comfort. He gathered his strength and moved upstairs to the guest room.

 

* * *

 

 

Mac rang the doorbell at Wardlow. It was later than she usually dropped by, but she was worried about Phryne and she could tell the downstairs lights were on.

She stood just outside the door waiting for sometime. She tried knocking. Nothing. Odd. Usually Mr. Butler was here to answer the door. It was late but it wasn’t _that_ late.

She knocked again.

“Phryne!” she called through the door as she knocked a third time. “Phryne! Open the door, it’s Mac!”

Mac thought she saw movement through the painted glass sidelites.

“Phryne,” she knocked again. “Phryne, open up.”

Maybe she’d imagined it, the movement behind the glass. As she turned to leave she heard the door open a crack.

“Dr. MacMillan?” a timid voice behind the door said softly.

“Nurse Isaacs!” Mac’s eyes widened in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

Rebecca cast her eyes downward, “Miss Fisher insisted I stay. Someone broke into my room at the boarding house and… well… she felt it wasn’t safe for me to stay there.”

Mac nodded, “Of course. I didn’t realize,” she said carefully, “I’m sorry. Is she… is Miss Fisher here?”

Rebecca shook her head, “No, Dr. McMillan… she was here for a while but she left an hour or so ago.”

“Where did she go? I… I heard that she’s not well,” Mac furrowed her brow in concern.

“I don’t know, Dr. McMillan. She and… the policeman… they had a fight. He said some terrible things to her and then he left. Miss Fisher threw on her glad rags and… well, she left too.” Rebecca reported nervously.

Mac nodded at her. She found it hard to believe Jack had said anything terrible, but that might explain his resigned tone on the telephone. Phryne heading out to dance her pain away sounded plausible.

“Where is Mr. Butler?” Mac asked the young woman.

“I don’t know. I think he might have gone out?”

Mac tried to remember which night Mr. Butler had his weekly outing, but she couldn’t be sure.

“If you see her, tell her I need to speak to her,” Mac requested.

“Of course, Dr. McMillan.”

“Good night, Nurse Isaacs,” Mac lifted her hat to the young woman in farewell and turned on her heel.

“Good night, Dr. McMillan.”

 *******************************

 Mac wasn’t sure whether she should search out Phryne at the usual haunts or just head home. It had been a long day, but there was something clearly not right. And what Nurse Isaacs said about Jack grated on her. That wasn’t him.

She steered her boxy little Baby Austin toward the most likely haunt, The Green Mill.

Things were already hopping by the time she walked through the door of the packed club. She scanned the room, looking for the familiar black bob, but her initial check was less than thorough. The room was dark and smoky. An austral interpretation of Duke Ellington’s hit “Creole Love Call” was being attempted with minor success. The crowds didn’t seem to mind that the pianist lacked Ellington’s finesse and the singer failed to capture Hall’s soulful wail. They were all too happy just to grind closely together with the languid tune.

Mac made her way to the bar.

“Whaddya have, Doc?” the balding barman looked expectantly at Mac.

“Hallo, Doug,” she greeted the familiar man with a smirk, “the usual.”                   

Doug nodded with a smile, pulling a short glass from his stack. “Whiskey neat it is, Doc.”

“Has she been in tonight?” Mac asked, knowing that Doug would know exactly which “she” Mac meant. Mac only ever came here with Phryne.

“Na, I don’t think so,” Doug wrinkled his head in thought, “I reckon I ain’t seen her here in a week or so… We’re crowded tonight. You could check the back.”

Mac lifted her glass to him in, “Ta,” and pushed away from the bar.

Mac sipped on her drink as she wove through the crowd, searching for her friend.  She checked the back room where the illicit games were being conducted. It wasn’t really Phryne’s scene, but Mac had to check.

_She’s not here,_ Mac finally decided. She made her way back to the bar.

“Another?” Doug asked amicably.

“Na, I need to get moving,” Mac knocked back the rest of her whiskey and set the glass and money on the bar, “If she comes in, tell her to find me at my office.”

Doug nodded in acknowledgment as he turned to another patron, “Whaddya have?” he asked the slick young man next in line.

Mac climbed back into her Baby Austin and headed out to check the Rockery Club next. Same result.

She could be anywhere, of course, but Green Mill and Rockery seemed like the most likely.

Mac decided she’d best go to her office at the Women’s Hospital. She’d brought Phryne’s sample there earlier. The rabbit needed more time, but she could still test what was left of the sample. If what Jack was saying was true, there may be some clues to be found.

She’d read about a new series of tests that could be done on urine. It wasn’t accepted science yet, but it was promising and might provide some answers.

She looked at her watch. It had just passed midnight. This was a bit of a long shot but she had to try something.

  

* * *

 

 

Rebecca shut the door behind her as Dr. McMillan walked away from Wardlow. She shook her head lightly and continued on her way to the kitchen. She’d been interrupted on her way there by the doctor’s insistent knocking.

Mr. Butler had kindly shown her around the house, instructing her on where she could find all she needed, before he’d left for the evening.

She put the kettle on the hob and sat at the kitchen table with her book, waiting for the kettle to boil. She loved to read from her book. Such wonderful ideas she could get from it.

The kettle was gurgling.

Rebecca pushed her book aside as she stood. She walked over to where Mr. Butler had shown her the tea pots were kept and pulled down a pretty ceramic pot with green and gold art deco motif. _Miss Fisher does have such lovely taste._

She walked over to the bag she’d left on the counter earlier when she’d gone to get her book… before Dr. McMillan stopped by.

_Dr. McMillan is such a lovely woman._ _So very kind to me._

She pulled out the tea leaves and measured out a couple of scoopfuls into the basket. She pulled out the vial— _the last of it; I need to make some more_ —and dumped the remaining white powder into the pot as well. The darker vial still had plenty and would last awhile.   _Almost done anyway._

The kettle began to whistle.

Rebecca brought the pot over to the counter next to the hob and carefully poured the boiling water over the leaves. _I wonder if she’d like some biscuits. She didn’t eat much._

While the tea was steeping, Rebecca searched through the cupboards for some biscuits. She found the biscuit jar, but was disappointed to see it contained only Monte Carlos. _Good enough._ She shrugged as she reached for a half dozen or so cream biscuits and put them on a small plate on the tea tray.

A glance at her watch told her that the brewing was done, so she carefully removed the leaf basket from the tea pot. She placed the tea pot and a lovely china cup next to the plate of biscuits, and then carefully picked up the laden tea tray and made her way through the house and up the stairs.

Luckily, she’d left the bedroom door open as her hands were now full. She’d made that mistake once already, _such a hassle_.

She set the tray down on the vanity bench and turned to look at the figure on the bed. At first, she thought she’d used too much… _that’s never happened before… I’m too careful_ , but a search of Miss Fisher’s handbag revealed sinus headache medicine containing cocaine. _Can’t let that happen again. I need to keep a closer eye_.

She sat down on the bed, reaching her hand out to stroke the ebony hair of the unconscious woman lying there. _Such a pity. She’s like a work of art. Hopefully, she’ll last long enough to play her part._

Rebecca moved her hand to Phryne’s shoulder and shook lightly, “Miss Fisher?” She shook her again, “Miss Fisher?”

“Jack?” a very groggy Phryne mumbled into the pillow.

Rebecca rolled her eyes _, another issue I’ll have to deal with_. “No, Miss Fisher. It’s Rebecca… Rebecca Isaacs.”

Phryne tried opening her eyes. The first attempt raised her eyebrows, but her lashes seemed to be glued together. She alternated between closing her eyes tighter and trying to open them to break the seal. Finally, she saw blurry light, but it was progress. She blinked rapidly trying to clear away the haze.

“Rebecca?” She said with an airy, sleepy voice, “what are you doing in my room?”

“I… I’m sorry to intrude, Miss Fisher,” she affected the frightened-young-woman voice, “I… was worried. You were in such a state.”

“I was in such… where’s Jack?” her voice was sounding more alert, but still husky with sleep.

“Don’t you remember, Miss?”

“Don’t I remember what, Rebecca?”

“You and your… um… friend. You had a terrible fight. He said he didn’t trust you. He said he didn’t care… and then he left,” Rebecca reported. Omitting most of the salient facts, most especially that while he may have said those words, they were said with indignant disbelief.

“Left?” Phryne was still fuzzy headed. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Miss Fisher,” Rebecca answered truthfully for once, “But he called you some awful things before he went.”

“Awful… I don’t understand,” Phryne shook her head in the vain attempt to get the cobwebs out, “That doesn’t sound like Jack.”

“I haven’t heard those words since…” Rebecca trailed off and looked down, “Well, since Brian.”

Phryne put her head in her hands. _What happened?_ There were snippets of memory. Mostly senses. There were images of an angry Jack. A man with a gun. A scared brunette woman. Jack raising his voice. _He doesn’t trust me._ Tears began to well up.  

Rebecca turned toward the vanity bench and poured a cup of tea.

“I made you some tea… chamomile blended with lavender. It should help you sleep,” Rebecca handed Phryne the cup.

“Thank you, Rebecca,” she said as she took a sip. “You don’t know how comforting it is to have you here.”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher,” Rebecca said quietly, “I don’t think I could do this without you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clues are coming together for Jack and Mac. Things are falling apart for Phryne.

“Where the hell have you been?” Mac demanded.

Jack had just set foot in City South. The fire-maned woman jumped up from the bench as soon as she saw him.

Mac looked exhausted. Her normally well-groomed hair was looser than he’d remembered seeing it. Her eyes were bloodshot with deep, dark circles underneath. She clearly hadn’t slept much, if at all.

“Has something happened to Phryne?” Jack felt his heartbeat beating a tattoo, threatening to break his ribs.

Mac threw her arms in the air in frustration, “I don’t even know, Jack! I couldn’t find her. She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t at the usual clubs… but there’s more.”

Jack ran his hand over his mouth in anxiety, “More?”

Mac looked around the station, “Can we talk about this in your office?”

“In my…? Of course,” Jack motioned for her to go ahead of him. He shut the door behind them, looking at Mac expectantly.

Mac hadn’t stopped into City South to visit Jack since he and Phryne had returned from their travels, but she knew where to find what she wanted. She opened the bottom desk drawer and pulled out the whisky and a glass. She looked up at him asking tacitly if he was joining her in imbibing.

Jack looked at his wristwatch, it was just before 8:00 a.m. He shook his head.

Mac poured herself a glass and then sat in Jack’s desk chair.

“I think Phryne’s been drugged,” she said after taking a big swallow.

“What? How?” Jack asked confused.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “but I think I may have been as well.”

Jack gaped at her.

“After I couldn’t find her last night… I went back to my office and tested the sample from the… uh…” Mac paused realizing she was about to say something she shouldn’t.

“The pregnancy test?” Jack supplied, “she told me that you were doing it.”

Mac’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction, “Yes. From that. In any case, between what you said and my own observations… I thought it would be best. The technique is new, but it has some prom…”

Jack was getting impatient, “I trust your methods, Mac. What did you find?”

Mac exhaled, “It seems as if there are significant quantities of both amphetamines AND barbiturates in her urine.”

“How? How is that possible? I’m not with her all the time, but she knows better than that.”  Jack ran his hand over his hair.

“I’m not sure, but it’s not something she would do on her own,” Mac agreed, “But I’m beginning to have an idea. I couldn’t figure out what it was from the urine test alone, and well… we’d been together earlier, so I tested my own. I found a similar result. Not as concentrated, but…”

“Have you taken anything?” Jack was pacing trying to work this out.

“Not… intentionally, no,” Mac continued, “But when I found the result, I decided to draw some blood to get a better idea what I’m dealing with. The urine test seems to be reliable, but it isn’t precise. In my blood, in addition to what I found with the urine, I found traces of scopolamine.”

“Scopolamine? The truth drug?” Jack stopped pacing and gawked at Mac.

“Not really a ‘truth drug’, Jack. It has been used for that, but it can cause hallucinations, erratic behaviour, exhaustion… headaches,” Mac looked at Jack meaningfully, “the amount in my blood was small, but if Phryne’s urine is any indication, she’s received a much higher dose. And it may have been mixed with a stimulant… who knows what that could do.”

“Rebecca Isaacs,” Jack said with dawning horror.

Mac snapped her eyes to him, “Rebecca? Why would she do this? How?”

Jack turned quickly to his file cabinet, “I… I don’t know why,” he opened to drawer and pulled out the Marjory Murdockson file, including her diary, “But I think she might have done the same thing to the head nurse in the mother’s ward at Royal Melbourne.”

He opened the diary to the spot he had bookmarked regarding Nurse Fletcher’s odd behavior and appearance, “Here,” he pointed at the entry handing her the diary, “Flushed, forgetful, headaches… are those consistent with the effects of scopolamine?”

Mac took the book and examined the writings of the dead woman. After a moment, she lifted her eyebrows responding, “Well… yes. All of these,” Mac confirmed, “But to what purpose?”

Jack shrugged, “I don’t know. What do you know about her?”

Mac stared at him for a moment in disbelief. Seeing nothing to indicate he was kidding with her, she closed her eyes trying to remember all she could about the seemingly sweet Rebecca Isaacs.

“Uh… not much,” she searched her memories, “She said she was getting away from an abusive relationship. I don’t recall her ever saying anything about a family.”

“Abusive relationship?” Jack pressed, “Did she say with whom?”

Mack shook her head, “She didn’t. She said she needed to find a place to work that her ex couldn’t find her.”

Jack paced the room rubbing his mouth in agitation. Mac sipped at her whisky and watched him.

“Mac?” he finally said, stopping the latest round of pacing suddenly to turn to her, “Did you ever tell Miss Isaacs about Phryne’s past? About Paris?”

Mac stared at Jack. A look of growing horror bloomed across her face, “Damn,” she set the glass down, “Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.”

“What did you tell her, Mac?”

Mac’s head dropped into her hands. She ran her fingers down her face to her mouth as she looked at him.

“She told me about being in a relationship with a man who hit her, who tried to own her.” Mac’s horror grew, “It reminded me of Phryne and Ren… well, it reminded me of Phryne. I was only trying to help. I was trying to show her she wasn’t alone… that she could be stronger for going through it.”

“Mac.”

“I wanted to show her I understood,” Mac said closing her eyes in shame.

“Mac,” Jack said softly, “I… I know you didn’t mean to do anything to hurt Phryne.”

“This is all my fault.”

“No,” Jack crouched in front of the chair she occupied and took her hands, “No, it isn’t. We just need to find Phryne.”

Mac searched his eyes for signs that he was angry with her, but saw only sadness and fear. She nodded.

“Yes, we do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oh. Good morning, Miss Isaacs,” Dot waddled into the kitchen to find Rebecca putting food and tea on a tray.

“Mrs. Collins! How are you this morning?” the young brunette responded pleasantly.

“Enormous,” Dot responded, “I can take tha…”

“I don’t mind,” Rebecca smiled sweetly at her and turned to the toddler hiding behind his mother’s legs, “Good morning, Master Collins.”

Teddy hid his face in Dot’s skirt with a whimper. Dot looked down at her son in confusion. He was normally so gregarious. She put a hand soothingly on the boy’s head.

“Yes, well… when Miss Phryne awakes, let her know I’ll have her client correspondence sorted.”

“Of course, Mrs. Collins,” Rebecca curtseyed slightly as she picked up the heavy tray.

Dot felt a sharp clutching pain, low in her abdomen. She grabbed the back of the nearest kitchen chair and gripped it tightly as ripples of pain radiated from her core. _It wasn’t time yet. Dr. McMillan said at least another 2 weeks._

“Mum-mah?” She looked down at the miniature Hugh Collins while trying to get control over her own body. “Cocoa?”

As the pain faded, she smiled at her son, “Alright, you. Hop up,” She pulled out the chair she’d been using for support and let the boy scramble on to it, and set about making both of them some cocoa.

  

* * *

 

 

Rebecca set the tray down on Phryne’s bed and watched the raven-haired beauty for a time before waking her. She had spent some time in wee hours, when Phryne’s mind was most receptive, filling her head with doubts and fears and misdirected vengeance. She wondered how much of that Phryne would remember now. She’d nearly broken that old bat, Fletcher, but she’d adjusted the mix since then.

She did feel badly about Marjory. _She was a sweet girl. She never really did suspect. Marjory had been so certain the world was fair—even after all my rumours started. So certain that things would work out. So hopeful that the worst was over when I befriended her. Ha! At least the poor fool never realized how unfair it really was. If only Brian didn’t have a type; Marjory could have lived. But he did. Like everything else, it was Brian’s fault._

_Yes, too bad about poor, sweet Marjory… but Brian’s suffering really is the point._

She was looking forward to Emily. She never liked Emily.

“Miss Fisher?” Rebecca called sweetly.

“Ughn… Dot?” Phryne yawned. She could feel the curtain filtered sun on her face as she blinked away the sleep, “Oh. Rebecca. Good morning.” She pushed herself up to sitting. Her eyelids were still heavy, and her hair was disheveled. Rebecca noted bitterly but silently that she still looked gorgeous.

“Good morning, Miss Fisher,” Rebecca handed her a tea cup. She’d have to test the waters carefully. She thought Miss Fisher was almost ready to play her role, but she’d have to get rid of her meddling staff first. What a lucky break that Miss Fisher and the Inspector were so easily split! With him out of the way, this was so much easier.

“Where is Mrs. Collins?” Phryne’s voice was heavy with sleep.

“I offered to bring you breakfast. She’s downstairs sorting through your correspondence. You’re so lucky to have her. It’s a shame you’ll lose her soon,” Rebecca was moving through the room opening curtains.

“Lose Dot? What are you talking about?” Phryne was still groggy.

“Oh… I just mean with the baby almost here… I assumed she’d be spending more time with her family,” Rebecca said, “I know it’s hard on her having to do all she does for you with one child. How much more difficult will it be with two?”

Phryne put her head in her hands, “Of course. The baby. But I never knew how much of a struggle it was for her with just Teddy here. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“She loves you, Miss Fisher. She doesn’t want to leave you. But running a household of her own, and then looking after yours? It’s a lot of responsibility.”

Tears welled in Phryne’s eyes, “I’ve been so selfish. I never knew how hard it was for her. Thank you, Rebecca. You are a treasure.”

Soft, rapidly thudding footsteps caused them to turn toward the door.

“Fi-nee… mummah… peed!” young Teddy Collins came barreling into her boudoir.

“Teddy, darling, this is Aunt Phryne and Uncle Jack’s priv...” her heart squeezed in panic as she realized Jack wasn’t there. She wasn’t sure where he was and when—or if—he’d ever want to return. She didn’t have time to consider it as Teddy was pulling on her arm trying to drag her from the bed.

“Mummah hurt! She peed big!” he was insisting.

Rebecca was moving toward the door, “I think her waters have broken. Mrs. Collins might be in labour.”

Phryne’s eyes widened quickly, “Oh no! Dot!” She jumped from the bed and flew down the stairs, swooping Teddy into her arms as she did.

When she arrived in the kitchen, the floor was wet and Dot was nearly doubled over, gripping a chair. Rebecca was fussing over her, trying to check her pulse.

“She’s in labour, Miss Fisher.”

“I need… aaah… I need to get to hospital.”

“Let me check you, Mrs. Collins,” Rebecca said soothingly, “I am a natal nurse. I’m not sure we have time to get you to hospital.”

“I’ll call Hugh!” Phryne hitched Teddy up on her hip and dashed back to the foyer.

Teddy squirmed in her arms, but she held him tight, “Help Mummah.”

“Yes, darling, we’re going to help Mummah,” she kissed the top of his head.

She picked up the receiver, “City South Police, operator!”

Constable Blalock answered the exchange, “City South.”

“Bill, is Hugh at the station?”

“Uh… Miss Fisher? Um… yes, just a moment,” she could hear him moving away, “Collins! Miss Fisher on the telephone for you,” she heard faintly on the line.

Teddy was still squirming. She loosened her grip on him and he pushed himself away hard enough to drop from her grip and start back toward the kitchen. She was about to go after him when she heard a familiar voice over the line.

“Phryne! Where have you been?” Mac’s voice was frantic.

“Mac? What do you mean? Where’s Hugh?”

“He’s here… but I’ve been searching for you all night!”

“Dot is in labor! Her waters have broken,” Phryne cut off this line of conversation as she heard a shout of pain from the kitchen. She’d work out misunderstandings later, “Meet us at hospital. Bring Hugh.”

She rang off and dashed back to the kitchen. Dot was panting, Rebecca was washing her hands.

“If we go now, she can make it to hospital. She’s not fully dilated,” Rebecca announced.

“Where is Mr. Butler?” Phryne asked.

“Morning… shopping…” Dot provided, just starting to catch her breath from the last contraction.

“Damn,” Phryne cursed.

“Damn,” Teddy mimicked.

“Hugh Theobald Collins, Junior!” Dot admonished her son. He shrank back at her raised voice.

“Right. Rebecca, help me get Dot into the motorcar.” Phryne went to one side of Dot.

“Miss… you’re still in your pajamas,” Dot fussed at Phryne, “At least grab your coat. I’ll manage.”

Rebecca went to the other side of Dot, “We’ll meet you outside.” She said to Phryne and directed Dot out the door.

Phryne ran to the foyer to grab her driving coat, throwing it on over her pajamas. Something heavy hit her leg as she put it on. She reached into her pocket and realized her gun was there. She thought she’d removed it—well there wasn’t time now—she ran back through the kitchen.

“Mummah!” Teddy was standing at the door with tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, Teddy!” Phryne scooped him into an embrace and headed out the door.

“If only Mr. Butler were here!” Phryne made it to the car with the toddler in her arms, “I’m afraid hospital might not be the best place for young Teddy. Rebecca, can you drive?”

Rebecca looked at the car warily, “No, Miss Fisher. But… I can look after Teddy,” she smiled at the boy.

Teddy buried his head in Phryne’s shoulder.

“Maybe you should stay here with Teddy until Mr. Butler returns.”

“OOH!” Their discussion was cut short by another contraction from Dot.

“Go… we’ll be fine. But hurry,” Rebecca reached her arms out to take Teddy. He clutched tighter to Phryne. Between Phryne pushing him away and Rebecca pulling him, he finally came loose with flailing limbs. “NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Mummah!!! Fi-nee!! NOOOOOO!!!!!”

Phryne looked desperately at her godson. His face was red with screaming.

“Teddy… sweetheart… Mummah’s… fine… stay,” A panting Dot managed from the car.

“NOOOOO!!” he wailed again. Dot turned her eyes to Phryne and nodded. Phryne got into the car and started it as Rebecca walked back into Wardlow with the screaming child in her arms.

Phryne could still hear his screams as they sped away toward the Women’s Hospital.

 

* * *

 

 

Phryne pulled up quickly in front of the Women’s Hospital honking her horn. Orderlies rushed out to meet them and helped Dot from the motorcar.

“I’m right behind you, Dot!” she called after her companion as they wheeled her into the building and then maneuvered the Hispano Suiza into a nearby parking spot. As she was walking back toward the building a police motorcar came up quickly. Her breath caught as she realized it was Jack driving. Mac and Hugh jumped out of the vehicle and met her at the entrance.

“She’s inside. It hasn’t happened yet,” Phryne reported. The trio ran into the building leaving Jack to catch up.

Mac glanced at her friend as they walked through the building, “We need to talk, Phryne.” 

Phryne gave her a look in return, suddenly afraid that the worst possible news was awaiting her. She couldn’t be pregnant! Later. She’d deal with it later. Dot was all that mattered now.

“Fine. Later. Deal with Dot,” Phryne huffed.

Mac nodded and headed straight to delivery.

Hugh was turned away at the door, “Husbands wait out here, mate,” the orderly who was likely a Full Forward on a local footy team—or should be if he wasn’t— stopped him short.

Hugh ran his hand over his head in frustration.

“Mac has this under control now, Hugh,” Phryne rubbed his back, “Trust her.”

She lightly pushed him toward the benches lining the hallway and helped him sit, “It could still be a while. Rebecca said she wasn’t fully ready to give birth.”

“Rebecca? Isaacs?” Hugh looked at her in alarm.

“Yes, she’s staying with me,” Phryne was trying to soothe Hugh, but he seemed to be getting more and more agitated. Jack walked up to the pair. She couldn’t quite look him in the eye, but she could tell by his shoulders he was tense.

“Where’s Teddy?” Hugh asked desperately.

“He’s at Wardlow with Rebecca. Mr. Butler was out at the market or she’d have come with us. She really is a treas..”

“She’s a suspect!” Hugh shouted, facing Phryne in anger, “You left my son with a possible killer!”

Phryne felt like Hugh had slapped her. She stared up at him slack-jawed.

“No… She’s… she’s a victim! She’s my client!” Phryne protested.

“Phryne,” Jack’s voice cut in softly, but it stung her unexpectedly to hear it. She whipped her eyes to her… what was he to her? Lover? Partner? Ex? She had never felt more uncertain.

“Phryne,” Jack continued now that he had her attention, “There are things you don’t know. We believe Miss Isaacs has been drugging you.”

She searched his eyes for something to tell her he was lying. That this was a joke. She found only sadness, pain… and absolute certainty he believed what he was saying.

“No… you’re wrong,” Phryne protested, “I… I would know.”

“Mr. Collins?” the voice of a nurse broke through the tension, “There’s been a complication. The doctor needs to speak with you.”

Hugh’s face was in anguish. He wanted to rush off to find his son. To make sure he was safe—but now Dottie and his second child needed him as well.

“Jack,” they both turned toward Hugh. His voice cracked. He didn’t often use Jack’s first name. Normally it was, “Sir” or “Inspector Robinson” or sometimes both. “Please! Go get my boy.”

Jack nodded and turned on his heel to rush home— (was it still?) over—to Wardlow.

Hugh paced back and forth, building in his rage. He finally turned and punched the wall causing Phryne to jump in fear. Clutching his fist, Hugh followed the nurse.

Phryne sprang off the bench and ran after Jack.

“JACK! Wait!”

She wasn’t fast enough. Jack’s motorcar drove past her as she exited the building.

Phryne ran over to her Hispano Suiza to give chase.

 

* * *

 

 

They arrived at Wardlow at the same time. Jack didn’t even stop to say a word as he rushed up to the house.

Opening the front door, he called out, “Teddy?”

“Jack you’re being ridiculous,” Phryne finally caught him, “Rebecca is harmless!”

“Teddy!?” he glanced into the empty parlor. Then turned toward the dining room and kitchen, “Teddy?”

“Jack, what did you mean I’ve been drugged?” she was trying to catch his attention again.

“Teddy?!” he stalked into the kitchen, stopping short. Phryne ran into the back of him.

“Ah. Inspector, Miss Fisher. Will you be requiring breakfast? Or luncheon?” Mr. Butler was finishing with the mop. Teddy Collins was lazily pushing a small car around the table. His eyes lit up slightly at seeing Jack.   
“Dack-dack!!” he pushed away from the table, sliding off the chair, and toddled toward his favorite uncle, stumbling slightly.

Jack lifted the boy, hugging him close with a kiss to Teddy’s temple.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” he whispered into the boy’s hair.

“Is everything alright, Inspector?” Mr. Butler stopped his chore, turning his full attention to the man holding the little boy.

“Where is Miss Isaacs?” Jack rumbled to the older man.

“She said she needed to finish something, and left,” Mr. Butler reported, “Young master Collins was asleep. I told her I’d keep watching him.”

“I need to ring Collins,” Jack said putting the child back in his chair. And walked past Phryne without looking at her.

Phryne’s heart was still racing. She was always ahead of the game. Why did she feel so lost?

“Did she say anything else, Mr. Butler?” Phryne was short of breath and fidgeting.

“Ah yes. I heard her say, ‘Poor Emily’,” he remembered, “But I believe she was speaking to herself.

Phryne’s head was throbbing, but she needed to maintain control. “Thank you, Mr. Butler.”

She wandered back toward the foyer. She could hear Jack on the telephone and decided to eavesdrop from the dining room.

“No, he’s alright. Mr. Butler has him now. He’s playing with his cars… of course… no… I—I don’t know, Hugh… I haven’t talked to her yet… I know… I’m sorry…” she could hear him draw a deep breath, “Any word on Mrs. Collins?... oh, thank goodness... yes, of course… as long as you need… I need to ring the station… yes… alright, you too. And congratulations.”

Phryne let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She’d run off without regard to Dot. It sounded like things were under control.

She listened to him tap the bar a few times, “Hello, operator? City South police station, please.”

She knew she should just go and talk to him, but she wasn’t sure what to say anymore. The preposterous idea that Rebecca was poisoning her caused her to flush again in anger. He never trusted her and this was yet another example of his lack of trust. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears.

“Blalock?” Phryne was startled out of her thoughts by his voice again, “Hugh’s going to be out for… hold on, what did you say? Byron Street?  Again? Yes… I’m closer… I’ll meet you there, bring backup.”

Phryne’s eyes widened. Of course! Dr. Gilbert’s house on Byron Street. Rebecca must have gone there to rescue Emily. She’d be overpowered! She had to help!

Phryne was out the door and on her way to Dr. Gilbert’s house in Elwood before Jack had even replaced the receiver to the cradle.

 

* * *

 

He knew he shouldn’t be so angry. None of this was her fault. Not if she’d been drugged. But this reckless behaviour… He ran his hand over his eyes and pinched his brow.

He stood after disconnecting the call with Blalock and walked back into the kitchen.

“Where’s Miss Fisher?” he looked around in growing panic, realizing that the back door was still open and Mr. Butler and Teddy were still staring out of it. He heard the roar of the Hispano Suiza.

“Did she?” He didn’t know how to finish that. Pleading with the prescient butler to understand the question.

“She was in the other room, and then came tearing through here mumbling about ‘Emily’,” Mr. Butler provided, “She seemed most interested that Miss Isaacs seemed concerned about an ‘Emily.”

Jack’s eyes widened, “Oh no.” He bolted out the door to jump in the police motorcar intending to race Phryne to Elwood.

Even in a desperate panic he was no match for her speed.

He pulled up to art deco home of Dr. Brian Gilbert, noting the familiar silver and red automobile haphazardly parked in front. The front door was wide open.

He really should wait for backup. That would be the smart play… but it might be too late. He rushed into the house, hoping to head off disaster. He heard the voices before he even crossed the threshold.

“He killed her! Shoot him!” he could hear the shrill, crazed voice of Rebecca Isaacs as he entered the house.

“Don’t be absurd,” Brian Gilbert’s voice cut in, “I found her here, standing over Emily… what did you do, you crazy bitch?”

“SHOOT HIM! He’ll kill us both!” Rebecca shrieked.

“Ki…Kill you?!” the man stammered, “Did you kill Emily?!”

Jack carefully peeked around the corner. On the ground in the center of the room, an unmoving form he knew as Emily Counts rested. On one side of Emily, stood Phryne. Her face was red, rivulets of sweat trailing down he forehead; hair matted to her skull.

Her gun was drawn. She was pointing it at Dr. Gilbert. Dr. Gilbert was pointing his gun at Phryne. Rebecca Isaacs was cowering behind Phryne, shrieking shrilly.

Jack carefully moved into the room. His hands in raised in supplication. “Phryne?” he said softly.

“Inspector Robinson,” Gilbert said, “arrest these women!”

“SHOOT HIM!” Rebecca screamed again.

Phryne looked panicked. She looked out of control.

Jack moved his body between Phryne’s gun and Gilbert. “Phryne, love, put the gun down,” he was pleading with her to fight this chemical war. To be the strong woman he knew she was.

“Jack?” Phryne was brought slightly out of her daze, “Jack, move! Gilbert is dangerous. I have no choice!”

The pounding in Phryne’s ears got harder and harder.

“SHOOT HIM! SHOOT THEM BOTH!” the screaming behind her made it hard to disconnect.

“Phryne, you don’t want to do this. Hand me the gun,” Jack begged, “Please.”

“No. Jack! You don’t understand!”

“Phryne, please,” he said in his most soothing tone, “please.”

She wanted to hand him her gun. She desperately wanted to. She physically couldn’t. Everything in her body was telling her to shoot through Jack if she must.  Her head hurt sharply at the thought. If she could only get Jack to mov…

“SHOOT HIM! THAT’S AN ORDER! DO IT NOW” the shrill yell of the nurse no longer sounded afraid. This was a battle cry of rage.

Phryne cocked the hammer, “Jack… move… I need to stop him.”

“Phryne, the one you need to stop is behind you. Please believe me.”

The pounding of her head had steadily gotten worse. Light started whiting-out the edges of her vision.

She could no longer keep her eyes open.

“Phryne, no!”

_POOMB_

Everything went white at the sound of a gun going off.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the story. Things shift.

_“Phryne, please,” Jack had placed himself so she couldn’t get a shot at Brian Gilbert, “please.”_

_Phryne wanted to hand him her gun. She desperately wanted to. She physically couldn’t. Everything in her body was telling her to shoot through Jack if she must.  Her head hurt sharply at the thought. He met her eyes with a look of absolute faith. Absolute love._

_“SHOOT HIM! THAT’S AN ORDER! DO IT NOW!” Rebecca was commanding her from behind, screaming into her ear._

_Against her will, Phryne cocked the hammer, “Jack… move… I need to stop him.”_

_Jack raised his hands in supplication, showing her that she had all the power here. “Phryne, the one you need to stop is behind you. Please believe me.”_

_The pounding of her head intensified. Light started whiting-out the edges of her vision. Her eyes drifted shut to contain the pain behind them._

_“Phryne, no!”_

_POOMB_

_Rebecca was cackling behind her, “YES! Again! Shoot Brian!”_

_She opened her eyes and saw Jack looking at her stunned. His jaw was slack. Tears were in his eyes. He just stood there for a moment blinking dumbly. An asymmetrical circle of dark crimson spread across his chest as blood soaked through his shirt. It was a new shirt. One she’d bought for him._

_Jack looked down at his blossoming bloodstain and huffed out a laugh. His brow pinched together in concern. He looked back at her as his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground._

_“JACK!” she dropped to his side, pressing her hands against the blood that was rapidly pumping out of his body, “No… no… Jack… no…”_

_Phryne felt his hand come up to touch her cheek. She turned her focus from the wound to his face. He was smiling peacefully at her._

_“Stay with me, Jack!” she sobbed._

_“Thank you, Phryne,” he said in a weak, gravelly voice, “Thank you for letting me love you as long as you did.”_

_“Don’t go! Jack…” she watched as the light behind his eyes went out. His hand dropped unceremoniously to his side. “Jack… don’t go… I love you, Jack… Please…”_

“No! Jack!” she was startled awake by the nightmare. Her heart was racing.

She blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the sleep as well as possible. Everything hurt. It felt as if she’d been hit by a rather large truck.

She realized she wasn’t home. Looking around she guessed she was in hospital. It was dark except for the light from the transom.

Phryne was alone. A shiver ran down her spine. _Was it true? Did she really kill Jack?_ It still felt horrifyingly real.

She heard voices outside her room. Happy chatter and laughter.

The door to her room opened and the lights came blazing to life. Phryne shielded her eyes.

“Well, hullo there sleeping beauty,” a friendly, unfamiliar face said to her. The nurse entering the room had plump rosy cheeks and a wide smile. Her eyes glittered with life.

“Where…” Phryne’s own voice sounded like it hadn’t been used in ages. It was thick and deep and scratchy. “Where am I?”

“You’re in hospital, Dovey,” the cheerful nurse supplied.

“Is… Jack? Inspector Robinson… is he?” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. _If it had been a nightmare and he was still alive, certainly he would have been here. Even through everything they’d been through lately, surely, he’d come.  Wouldn’t he?_ “Has Inspector Robinson been to see me?”

“There was a policeman to see you, Dovey… don’t think his name was Robinson though. Older gent. Darling or… Starling. Yes, that’s it Starling. Said he had some questions for you when you woke up. Which I guess you are now!” the nurse was far too perky. Phryne felt nauseated.

“Commissioner Starling? But no detective inspectors?” Phryne was beginning to panic. “Is Dr. Elizabeth McMillan here?”

“I saw her earlier. Do you want me to fetch her for you? She’s been checking on you every day… several times a day, really.”

“Every… How long have I been here?!” Phryne was fully panicking now.

The nurse checked the chart, “Four days, it says. I wasn’t working when you were brought in, though.”

“What happened to me?!”

“Why don’t I go get Dr. McMillan?” the perky nurse finally caught on that Phryne was not fully aware of her situation, “Let me give you something to relax first.”

“NO!” Phryne blurted out, “No… I’m fine. Just get Mac… Dr. McMillan.”

Nurse Much-too-Perky nodded and scampered from the room.

Stinging tears sprang to Phryne’s eyes. She cradled her face in her hands as choking sobs shook her. _Jack was dead. If he weren’t, he would be here._ He would be here by her side, even after all she’d done to drive him away. He was— he had been— her rock. And she’d destroyed him.

“Phryne?” Mac’s voice cut through her sobs. Phryne found herself being held in Mac’s tight embrace.

“I killed him, Mac. I killed Jack. He was the love of my life… and I killed him,” Phryne wailed.

“Phryne…” Mac soothed, “Phryne… it’s alright.”

“It’s not. It’s not alright,” Phryne’s tears were flowing down her face.

“Phryne, stop… Jack isn’t dead. You didn’t kill him.”

Phryne looked up at her friend, disbelieving, “If he’s not dead… why isn’t he here?”

Mac stroked Phryne’s hair sadly, “Oh, sweetheart. He wants to be,” she said, “More than anything… but, well… he can’t.”

Phryne shook her head, “Why can’t he? If he wants to be here, why isn’t he here? Is he injured? Did I shoot him? I don’t know what happened! Tell me what happened!”

“Phryne, he’s fine. Your gun went off when you passed out, but it didn’t hit anyone,” Mac assured her, “But darling, Jack’s not allowed to come to see you right now.”

“Not allowed… Jack’s a policeman! I’m a…” she trailed off. _How much trouble am I in? What am I? Victim? Witness? Perpetrator?_ She still didn’t know what happened to her.

Mac pressed her lips together, and shook her head lightly.

“Mac?”

“Jack was suspended after the… incident,” Mac offered.

“Suspended?! Why?!” Phryne was indignant.

Mac sighed, “He was told to keep you under control… to keep you from going after Gilbert. He failed.”

Phryne shook her head in guilty agony, “I still don’t understand what happened… wasn’t Gilbert… wasn’t he a monster?”

Mac shook her head, “Gilbert is an ass, but he’s not the monster you thought. Rebecca… Rebecca Isaacs is the monster.”

“Rebecca?! But she…”

“She was poisoning you, Phryne. Poisoning your tea… and your mind,” Mac told her.

“I don’t,” Phryne shook her head, “I don’t understand. Why? Why would she do this?”

Mac shrugged, “She’s… broken. Her mind is sick. She was obsessed with Brian Gilbert, and couldn’t let it go. After he rejected her, she decided to ruin his life. When she found out about you… about what you could do… about what you’d been through yourself…” Mac hung her head in shame.

“You told her about… me?” Phryne guessed, “About Paris?” 

Mac nodded, “She found out about you… and she used you. She used me to get to you.”

“What happened to her?” Phryne asked, “What happened to me?”

“Cardiac arrhythmia. Your heart was beating too erratically to maintain. The drugs in your body added to the stress of Jack putting himself in your way to save you from shooting Gilbert…” Phryne looked at her sharply.

“He did that? I wasn’t sure what was dream and what was real,” Phryne said, “why would he do that? Did he know I was drugged?”

Mac nodded, “He did. But… you can talk about this one with him yourself… But he did tell me he trusted you won’t really shoot him… but that he had to do something because if you killed Gilbert you’d be facing a murder charge. He couldn’t bare that.”

“I really felt I needed to shoot Gilbert,” Phryne admitted, “Wait… What about Emily? Dr. Gilbert’s fiancée. Is she…?”

“Miss Flynn is alive. But she’s still recovering. Rebecca drugged her with barbiturates she’d baked into some biscuits.  She didn’t count on Dr. Gilbert coming home while she was still staging the scene of ‘his crime’. She’d always meant to get you to kill Gilbert for her. She tried to finish off Emily Flynn first.”

“And she killed Marjory?”

Mac nodded, “When she realized Dr. Gilbert had rejected her for another young brunette, she decided to ruin him by framing him as a pattern killer. She befriended Marjory—after ruining her reputation—to gain her trust and access to the murder weapon.”

“But why? It’s all so convoluted.”

“It’s a game to her,” Mac responded, “She didn’t see Marjory, or you, as people. She saw you as mere pawns. She was willing to sacrifice whomever she needed to sacrifice toward achieving ‘checkmate’, as it were.”

Bits and pieces of odd things Rebecca had done— strange things she’d said— started to fall into place.

“What happened to her?” Phryne asked warily.

“After you failed to complete your mission and passed out, the gun dropped from your hand as you fell and fired. Luckily, it didn’t hit anyone. Rebecca and Jack scrambled for it, but Jack was faster,” Mac reported, “Rebecca was arrested. I believe he talked his superiors into allowing her psychiatric evaluation.”

“How did I not see it?” Phryne put her head back into her hands.

“You don’t have many,” Mac opined, “But it’s a blind spot for you. She knew you couldn’t resist helping a vulnerable young woman in need. And she’s a talented… actress.”

“But Jack! He watches my blind spots!” Phryne protested, “He should have seen it.”

“He did,” Mac said, “He figured it out first. But you two were at odds… not working as a team.”

“Why isn’t he here, Mac?” Phryne was afraid of asking the question. Afraid she’d ruined her partnership with Jack forever. But she needed to know. “He may not be able to be here as a policeman, but he’s still my partner… isn’t he?”

Mac brushed her fingers down Phryne’s arm, “He’s standing in the wings, waiting for his cue… but when you were unconscious, there was nothing he could do. He has no right to visit you, Phryne.”

“He has every right! He’s… Jack! He’s my… he’s my Jack!”

“But he isn’t family. Not legally,” Mac pointed out, “As far as the law is concerned, he’s just a stranger to you. Rebecca has sent hospital administration into a tailspin. Having a murderous nurse brings us under terrible scrutiny. Every ‘i’ must be dotted just so, every ‘t’ crossed.”

“The law is asinine. That isn’t fair,” Phryne sighed, “He’s the most important person in my life and I can’t see him.”

“We need to keep you here a few more days to make sure there are no lasting effects of the cocktail of drugs Rebecca introduced you to,” Mac informed her, “But… now that you’re awake, you can give express permission to allow him to visit.”

“I do… I give permission,” Phryne said, “I need to see him.”

“I can talk to administration, they’ll want to ask you that directly… but, Phryne… it won’t be until morning.”

“Can you go tell Jack… tell him I need him?” Phryne’s voice was raw with emotion, “He needs to know… I have things I need to tell him.”

Mac nodded, “I’ll tell him first thing in the morning.”

“Go to Wardlow and wake him up if you have to!” Phryne ordered, “Mr. Butler will wake up for…”

“He isn’t at Wardlow, Phryne.” Mac stopped her.

Phryne looked at Mac confused, “Wardlow is his home. Where is he if he’s not there?”

“You kicked him out,” Mac pressed her lips together tightly, “He’s staying… he’s staying with a friend.”

“I kicked him out?! I would never… It’s his home, too… I never wanted him gone!” Phryne was getting extremely agitated, “Which friend?”

Mac realized too far into this conversation that she’d said too much. She never was one for holding her tongue, but she was beginning to worry what all this was doing to Phryne.

Phryne was strong and fit or Rebecca’s drugs would have killed her. As strong and fit as she was, however, she’d suffered a cardiac event, and Mac was nervous about upsetting her too much.

“Mac? Which friend?” Mac was snapped out of her internal dialog by Phryne’s increasingly agitated question.

“Rosie.”

Phryne drew a sharp breath, “Oh. Of course.”

“Phryne, he’s still with you. He’s still committed to you,” Mac tried to explain, “But she had room and well… I think she understands him better than most.”

Phryne nodded softly, “No. It’s good. I’m,” she dropped her head, “I’m glad she was there for him.”

Mac watched her carefully. She’d known Phryne most of her life. She’d never seen her look quite so deflated.

“Are you alright? He’s not going back to her, you know.” Mac interrupted Phryne’s thoughts.

Phryne closed her eyes and nodded. She wouldn’t believe it until she talked to Jack. A part of her thought it would be easier for Jack to do that. Go back to a good woman who wasn’t nearly so much trouble. She knew Jack still loved Rosie in a way. He could probably learn to fall in love with her again. Her chest ached at the thought. She didn’t want to lose him, but it might not be up to her any more. Maybe Jack and Rosie should give it another go. Give Jack back the life he deserved, maybe they could try for children again like Hugh and… Oh no!

“Dot!” Phryne opened her eyes widely, “She was… was she in labour? It’s all so confused! I don’t know what’s real! I remember Hugh hitting the wall with his fist… or do I? Mac… tell me Dot is—”

“She’s fine, Phryne… She’s fine… Hugh’s fine… Teddy’s fine… little Magdalene Phryne Collins is fine,” Mac smirked at her.

“Magdalene Phryne?” Phryne raised a skeptical eyebrow at the name. That Dot would chose so provocative a name seemed out of character.

“Dot said something about the power of redemption… honestly, from the moment I deliver them until they start talking sensibly I have very little interest in them. She’s already starting to live up to her namesake. I don’t think they’ve slept all week,” Mac smiled, “They’re calling her Maggie.”

“Do I remember something about complications?” Phryne was trying desperately to piece together her memories.

Mac shrugged and nodded, “Yes. I had to perform a Caesarean procedure. Maggie was breech.”

“But Dot is alright?” Phryne asked nervously.

“No infection, no further complications, healthy baby girl. In fact,” she looked at her wristwatch and standing, “I need to go check on her now. She should be going home tomorrow.”

“Is Hugh still angry with me?” Phryne learned a long time ago not to be bothered by other people’s emotions. She wasn’t responsible for how other people felt. There wasn’t anything she could do to change anyone but herself. She was remembering his anger at her leaving Teddy with Rebecca… it wasn’t clear, but it was powerful. The thought of Hugh being angry at her for something so justifiably upsetting stung worse than she expected.

“Oh, Phryne… no… no one blames you for any of this!” Mac was quick to try to allay Phryne’s feelings of guilt, “Rebecca Isaacs is the monster here.”

“Thank you, Mac.”

“I’ll see you in the morning. Sadie… Nurse Logan… will know how to find me if you need me.”

Phryne settled back into the less than comfortable bed. She didn’t want to lose Jack. If she did, that would be her fault. If only they’d shared their fears and frustrations earlier… Well, they hadn’t and now they were in a mess. She didn’t see many ways out of the mess. Just the two, really.

_“Why don’t you trust me at all, Jack?” She cried. He was staring at her with his arms raised. Her gun was pointed at him._

_He blinked at her stunned, “How… how can think I don’t trust you?”_

_Phryne cocked the gun, “You never talk to me about anything! You keep everything inside and I never know where I stand on anything. We said we were going to be honest with each other… but you never tell me how you feel! You just go along and I have to make all the decisions. You don’t even care!”_

_Jack’s nostrils flared in anger, “I don’t care? I don’t… Jesus, Phryne… when am I ever given an actual choice? You do what you want to do… regardless of the consequences… and I have to either suck it up or get out. You’ve made that clear from the start.”_

_“You knew who I was when we got into this,” she took aim at his heart. “This…”_

_“This what, Phryne? What are we?” he pled._

_“Nothing,” She fired the gun. She hated Jack Robinson for making her feel like this. She hated him for making her the monster._

_He stared at her as blood spread across his chest, “I love you, Phryne. I always have.”_

_She stared at him in horror, and then at the gun in her hand, “Jack? JACK! No!”_

“JACK!” she yelled sitting up in bed with a start.

“Good morning, Dovey,” the sweet voice of Nurse Logan brought her back to reality. She poured Phryne a glass of water and helped her drink it.

“Thank you,” Phryne said raggedly.

“Another nightmare?” the nurse asked her.

“Yes,” she rubbed her face, “Is there any word about Inspector Robinson?”

“Oh… yes, I almost forgot,” she pulled out her clipboard and flipped through the papers on it, “Dr. McMillan spoke to the administrator. He just needs you to sign this.”

Phryne reached out to grab the board, signing it without really looking at it. The only sentence she needed to know was there. The sentence stating that Jack Robinson had permission to visit her at any time during her stay.

“Is he here?” Phryne said hopefully.

“Oh… I don’t know, Dovey… I’ll make sure the front desk gets this though, in case he comes in,” the pleasant woman promised.

Phryne realized she didn’t know what she even looked like right now. She’d used the toilet, but there were no mirrors in the lavatory.

“Nurse Logan!” she called after the woman as she headed out the door.

The bright-faced woman popped her head back in, “What do you need, dear?”

“Would it be possible to bathe? I’d like to feel like myself again.”

“If you’re up for it. Give me two shakes,” the nurse replied.

Nurse Logan led her to a shower room. Not quite as luxurious as the bath she longed for at home, but it would do. She’d gathered she’d been sponge-bathed in her days asleep, but it felt good to wash away all of sleep. Once she was clean, she found a mirror. She looked terrible. Her eyes were sunken. She looked drawn and pale. At least her hair was clean now, if not damp and limp. She pulled the ugly hospital robe around her tighter. Probably better if it did take time to track down Jack. She hated the thought of him seeing her like this. Maybe she shouldn’t have signed that form.

“There you are! I thought I’d misplaced you,” Nurse Logan said, “Time to get you back to your room.”

Phryne was allowed to walk, but she felt unsteady on her feet, leaning heavily on the sturdy nurse. They rounded the corner to her room and Phryne gasped as she saw the familiar profile and trench coat.

“Jack!” He turned his eyes away from the chart he was perusing to look at her. She didn’t know what look to expect. Part of her expected anger. She knew she’d put him through hell. Part of her expected pity. She knew what she looked like, and it wasn’t her best. Not by a long-shot. What she should have expected, but for some reason did not— was a look of pure and deep love… which clouded quickly to pain. It was the look she saw in her dreams just before the light went out in his eyes.

“Miss Fisher,” he said cautiously.

“Let’s get you back in bed, Dovey,” the world had fallen away when she saw him, so she was startled by the voice beside her.

“Of course,” she shuffled with help to the bed (which blessedly had been fitted with clean sheets while she bathed.)

“I’ll be back soon with your breakfast, dear,” the nurse offered helpfully. It didn’t matter. Phryne didn’t hear her any more. She got lost in Jack’s eyes.

At some point it registered to Phryne that the two of them were alone, but neither one had moved or said anything. Phryne finally decided to break the silence. It was clear both of them were having long conversations inside their own heads.

“Mac tells me you’re staying with Rosie,” Phryne started.

Jack’s brows rose, “Uh… yes… I… I didn’t know where else…”

“Why didn’t you stay at Wardlow?” she asked.

He closed his eyes, “I didn’t know if… I wasn’t sure… I…”

“Jack. Wardlow is your home. It’s _our_ home.” Phryne reached her hand to him. He came to her without thought, to place his hand in hers, lacing his fingers with hers as he sat on the edge of her bed.  

“Is it?” his voice was scratchy and anguished.

“Jack,” she reached out her hand to his face, “Jack you are my home.”

Tears flooded his eyes but didn’t fall.

“I’ve been so… so scared,” he rasped.

“Me, too,” Phryne said, “I was afraid I’d never see you again. That I’d lost you.”

He shook his head, “Not just with all of this… mess… with Miss Isaacs,” he blinked back tears, “though… this has been the worst week of my life. No… Phryne, I’ve been so scared of losing you that I drove you away.”

“Jack,” she tilted her head at him.

“You were right. I should have trusted you. I should have trusted us… instead I…mmm,” Phryne pulled him to her and kissed him silent.

She pulled back from the kiss but rested her forehead against his, “Jack. You trusted me when you had no reason at all to do so. You put your life in my hands when I was completely out of control. I don’t think anyone has ever trusted me more than that.”

“In retrospect that probably was very foolish,” he admitted with a slight smile.

“Or very brave,” she corrected, “and you didn’t just risk your life, you risked your job… didn’t you?”

Jack hung his head, “Uh… yes.”

“Mac told me you’d been suspended,” Phryne stated.

He nodded without meeting her eyes.

“Because of me.”

Jack shook his head, “No. Because of me. Because I refused to follow orders I disputed.”

“Orders about me,” Phryne countered, “Jack, I…”

“Phryne, don’t…” Jack shook his head.

They both sat silent, each stroking the others fingers soothingly. Neither knowing how to move forward.

Phryne was the first to speak again, “Jack, when I woke up and you weren’t here…”

“I wanted to be here. It killed me not to…” Jack started.

“Please don’t say ‘killed’, Jack,” she interrupted him with a shudder, “In my nightmares I’ve… you’ve died over and over.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s been… unbearable.”

“Oh.”

“And when you weren’t here, I thought…” the tears fell down her cheeks.

“I see. You thought… You’d… you thought I’d been shot,” he guessed, remembering the pain of thinking she’d died before they were ever lovers. He imagined how much more painful it would be now, and with the guilt of thinking he’d caused it. He reached for the back of her head and pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her hair as he pulled her fully into his embrace. She nodded against his chest.

“It’s been agonizing to not be here,” Jack spoke into her hair.

“I don’t want to feel like this again,” Phryne said in a small voice.

Jack kissed her head again, “Phryne, I can’t promise you that. Our jobs, assuming I can keep mine… our jobs are dangerous. There’s always a risk of…”

“No, Jack,” she said pulling up to look at him, “Not that. I don’t want to ever feel like we’re not a team, again. I don’t want to be in a situation where we can’t be there for each other.”

He stayed silent trying to work out what she was driving at.

“And Jack, I don’t ever, EVER want you to feel like you don’t belong,” Phryne reached up to cup his face.

“I don’t feel…” Jack started to protest.

“You do,” she countered, “You do or you would be staying at home… your home.”

“What are you saying, Phryne?”

She took a deep breath, and looked him square in the eyes, “Marry me.”

Jack wasn’t sure he heard her correctly. He had been listening—very intently—but he thought this settled and had given up on that ever being a real option for them.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Marry me, Jack Robinson,” she smiled shyly at him.

“Are you sure?” he was suddenly hit with the thought she was doing this out of fear, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. This is never what you wanted.”

She rubbed her thumb over his lips, eliciting an involuntary kiss on the pad of her thumb.

“Jack… what I never wanted was to feel trapped. To feel I had no control over my own destiny,” she explained, “Marriage usually is that for women. But in protecting myself from that, I put you in the same position.”

“Phryne, I chose to be in this. I knew you weren’t interested in marriage,” Jack protested, “I don’t want you to marry me out of pity or duty.”

“I love you, Jack. I want to marry you because you are my partner and my best friend, and you won’t trap me… you don’t,” Phryne tried to explain, “I didn’t want to marry anyone… not just anyone… but you aren’t just anyone. You’re Jack. And I want to marry you.”

His mind was a maelstrom of joy and fear crashing together. His eyebrows rose in shock as he tried to process this new shift in their relationship. _Do I want to marry her?_ More than he let himself realize.

“Ask me,” He requested.

“I did ask you,” she pointed out.

“No,” he countered with a smirk, “You commanded it. You said, ‘Marry me’…” he suddenly got nervous that this would be too much, “I’m asking you to ask me, not command me. I don’t need you to ask my permission for everything you do, but if it involves me, I’d like you to ask me.”

She was stunned, gaping at him for a moment (a tortuous moment where he questioned the wisdom of this new ‘communicating his feelings’ tactic) before breaking into a wide smile. He smiled back.

“Very well, Inspector,” she grinned, “Jack? Will you do me the very great honour of becoming my husband?”

Jack put on a pensive look, “I don’t know…”

“JACK!”

He laughed, “Yes! Yes! Of course, yes. I will marry you, Phryne Fisher.”

She grabbed him by the sides of his head and pulled him in for a desperately passionate kiss.

As he pulled away, he looked at her quizzically, “Since you asked me, do I have to take your name?”

She shut him up with a kiss.


End file.
